Brian Slattery Photo
Sley.
Within seconds of taking the Cafe Nine stage Sunday night, Cynthia Sley of the Bush Tetras announced that her appearance in New Haven was overdue — by two decades.
“We have a story about New Haven,” she said. “We almost played here and didn’t get to. It was about 20 years ago.” For fans of the legendary post-punk band, which could trace its history back to 1979, it was worth the wait.
The night began with a set from the New York-based Gold Dime, fronted by Andrya Ambro on vocals and drums, supported by Ian Douglas-Moore on bass and John Bohannon on guitar. Under Ambro’s direction, Gold Dime crafted a subtly original sound, in that Bohannon and Douglas-Moore stuck mostly to slow, atmospheric playing, creating churning drones and sweeping tones. This left all the propulsion to Ambro on the drums, which she amply provided, often standing up at the kit while she played. Raising her head to the microphone, she unleashed a voice that cut through the music like a prophet on a street corner. The effect of frenzied rhythm and urgent vocals against the wall of sound Bohannon and Douglas-Moore built was hypnotizing. Gold Dime laid the foundation for further rock to come.
New Haven’s own La Tunda — Stephany Brown on vocals and guitar, Kriss Santala on vocals and bass, and Andy Beetham on drums — sounded heavier than ever, even as their tight arrangements had them stopping on a dime, as they played to a room that had already filled. The trio jumped from one song to the next almost without stopping, hardly giving the people in the audience a chance to cheer, as much as they wanted to. Midway through their set, it was standing room only. Heads bobbed. Bodies rocked. The room was primed, at last, for a New Haven debut long overdue.
Bush Tetras — Sley on vocals and percussion, Pat Place on guitar, Val Opielski on bass, and Dee Pop on drums — then tore through a set that pulled from the band’s vast catalog all the way up to its latest release, Take the Fall. Pop and Opielski as a rhythm section was a dynamo, both of them capable of ranging across their instruments when the song demanded, though they always knew when it was best to lay down a hard-hitting beat, too. Sley was an electrifying frontwoman, with a commanding voice at the microphone and rock ‘n’ moves that kept the band ramped up even when she wasn’t adding percussion to the mix.
In a night full of inventive musicians, Place on her guitar turned out to be a standout. It began with her tone, drenched in distortion and feedback, menacing and wild. It continued with riffs pulled from a playbook all her own, full of notes choices that jarred in just the right way, ratcheting up the tension in the rhythm. Her solos let loose what an electric guitar does so well, making a sound that suggested total abandon even as Place was cool and in control.
Bush Tetras kept everyone who had showed up in the room to the end, when the band played the song it was known best for — “Too Many Creeps” — inviting Brown from La Tunda to join in on vocals. Sley thanked everyone for coming out on a Sunday night. The audience demanded an encore. Bush Tetras obliged, sending everyone home on a caterwauling note from Place’s guitar. It rang and rang, right up until she turned off her amp.
