Supercluster/ Blondie-Grunt/ Nana Grizol/ Hotpants Romance/ The Coathangers, PopFest 2008, Little Kings, 8/13/08

The Coathangers

by Casey DeHoedt
08/14/2008

Now, I’ve come to find that the Athens M.O. is the fashionably fifteen minutes late. As such, the Athenian spectator often misses the first half of the first set that starts on time.

Upon arrival at Little Kings on August 13th, fashionable is superseded by diligence. The early birds want their worm. Drifting through conversations of smokers cheery from the afternoon’s events, most have eagerly tuned their ears for Supercluster striking up the set.

This Athens based sextet is a snug fit on the Little Kings stage. “Too Many Eights” opens the evening with layers of harmony unfolding into mystical and eerie territory. Vanessa Hay’s vocals paired with the vapors of John Fernandes’s violin seem to evoke a spiritual tone for a communal music experience. This impression of channeling and possession is heightened by the lone and brave dancer in front swaying with a witchy gaze in her eyes.

As the set progresses, superior musicianship is untainted by performance gimmicks. There’s a natural quality to Supercluster’s performance; as if watching a family in a Sunday routine gathering round the hearth and rockin' out – just for the sake of it. By the third song, “A Mermaid’s Tale,” the room begins to loosen up as Vanessa sings immaculately (with that amazing voice) and hands casually in the pockets of her white jeans. Her eyes – slightly magnified by the raddest rendition of Edith Head spectacles – shine as she emits the occasional smile to the crowd.

Blondie-Grunt, “the Blondie alter-ego of Bunny-Grunt” takes over. Opening with a raucous rendering of “Telephone.” the band is dressed up and ready for action “one way or another.” Not a second wasted, the band pushes seamlessly through each song – even if it means omitting the verses. Guest singer Sarah Oberst (That’s My Daughter) joins in as the instrumentality of the band plows over her good intentions. As the set draws to an all-too-soon close singer/bassist Karen Reid and rhythm guitarist abandon their instruments as Matt Harnish and drummer dominate in a true-down-to-the-falsetto version of “Heart of Glass.” The cover slides into a funk/hip-hop pulse as Nate Mitchell (Cars Can Be Blue) jumps on stage for an impromptu rap (something about a “Man from Mars”) and the kids go wild. All in all, I’ve never seen so much performance pressed into thirty minutes.

Drifting outside to occupy the gray area of set changing...
“How the fuck we gonna do all that?” asks Kate Armitage of Hotpants Romance. She is assured they would (spoiler, they will).

At 9:30, Little Kings is already littered with Popfest handouts, beer cans and cigarette butts – and the night’s only just begun.

Minutes after Blondie-Grunt, the kids seem high after that tasty treat. Nana Grizol shifts the audience focus to the patio. It’s a good thing too as the sextet with their abundance of instruments have commanded a good bit of space. The perfect backdrop for any Athens performance. Tucked away in the Southwest corner of the lot, the blank wall of Athens First to their backs, flanked by potted plants... Grizol’s brass ensemble peals neath the red, yellow and orange blossom lights – a fiesta feeling to say the least.

Most people standing, some sitting, some talking, some cheering their toss of a bean bag into a plywood hole. Theo Hilton’s naked yet muffled voice expresses the feeling palpable to everyone standing, sitting, cheering, playing bean bags below the bright three-quarter moon: a summer night of beauty and freedom. ”Do you dream at night?” A song about the damnation of daily toils. All these are abandoned as more and more people begin to circle round and soak up the music and atmosphere. Despite the cool breeze Hilton is covered in sweat and enthusiasm as he maintains the audience’s energy. “I keep wanting to say what the songs are about, but it’s really not that easy.” The premiere of their new song (currently “Untitled”) is soft, poetic and charms dreamy expressions onto the faces of the gatherers. Their last song follows the melodic sweetness until the ensemble of brass and rock explode with peaks and valleys of dynamics full of tease as the audience seems to hang on this moment of the night.

It takes a minute for the crowd to disperse. By now Little Kings is full-on flooded. The only real breathing room left is the seating area near the door of the interior... A place few are caught this evening. Some are held in place by an engaged conversation. Most float around mingling with familiar faces or new acquaintances.

Back inside, Hotpants Romance has already led siege to the stage. There’s little turnover from outside to inside. Perhaps some have found contentment with beverages, nicotine and conversation. My opinion, those “some” don’t know what they missed.

The British trio is true to name as all three have donned (quite stylishly) hot pants. Their music is fast and loose. The vocals snarly and sweet in everyway a bratty British rocker girl ought to be. Their stage personae are highly entertaining as they enact the aloof “we’re playing but it’s no big thing” attitude.

“This might be our best song,” bassist Lowri Evans comments. “Yea, I think it is,” replies guitarist Laura Skilbeck.

What follows is a thirty second melody accompanied by three chords. Their next song is as brief as drummer Kate Armitage sings ”I don’t wanna make you cry, I just wanna make you cum.” Naughty, nasty and fabulous. All stereotypes of females collide as their cute smiles, British accents and pulling-hair-on-the-playground vocals taunt into crashes of utter cacophony and disarray. Afterwards, Skilbeck casually sips from her beer with an angelic gaze toward the crowd as if “she didn’t do it.”

Unfortunately the vibe is cooled in comparison to the other bands. It’s not their fault really. It was just a room filled with unsuspecting victims.

Next up, the Coathangers, a band that aims for fun. During their set-up, bassist Meredith Franco begins to blow up balloons and tosses them into the already anticipating crowd. The word “Coathangers” begins buzzing around as everyone finds their place and the antics of volleying the red, orange and green orbs commence. Nearby Matt Fowler (a PopFest or Bust traveler from the UK) ponders, “Wouldn’t this be great if this was the gig and that was it?” Franco works her way around to those gathering and hands out goodie bags wrapped in pink tissue paper, fastened by red ribbon. Not a note played; already the crowd seems amused as the balloons buoy around.

And dear readers suffice to say that journalistic integrity was sacrificed to the temptation and pure enjoyment of rocking along with these frantic females. Don’t be fooled by whatever “cutesiness” you’d conclude from pink tissue paper and balloons (not to mention the hot pink haired troll doll observing from Julia Kugel’s amp). These ladies know how to BLARE OUT and shatter the stage with intensity. Candice Jones scratches and paws at her keyboards like a cat maiming a mouse. Drummer Stephanie Luke pounds on the trap as if every ounce of frustration had been the treatment for the snare heads. Their song “Dancing With My Cutie” transforms into “Dancin' With My Boobies” ”It’s so uncomfortable.”

Mr. Fowler would like to retract his comment. “Would it be fair to say you want more?” He smiles and nods.

The last song is a dedication. “This song goes out to my troll, it’s my power troll. Her name is Ginger,” says Kugel right before she screams her throat out on “Leave My Shit Alone.”