Three Sheets Becomes A Listening Room For A Night

It was a cold night, and the final game of the World Series was on. Three Sheets was quiet. Without fuss or fanfare, members of Living Hour, on tour from Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada, set up their gear on the bar’s small stage and began to play.

Drummer Alex Chochinov began on the trumpet before switching to his kit. The guitars lines from Gil Carroll and Adam Soloway intertwined with Natalie Bohrn’s bass while Sam Sarty sent out soaring lines from a trombone. She and Soloway then doubled up on vocals as the song seemed to sink into a dream, riding a simple, tugging rhythmic figure all the way out to the end. The small crowd sat listening wordlessly.

The members of Living Hour said almost nothing from the stage. The music, swooning and unabashedly pretty, spoke for itself. There was a little chatter from the next room, a little laughter, but for the most part it stayed quiet enough to hear what every musician was doing as Living Hour worked its way through its set of ethereal, intricate songs.

This reporter wished that more people had come to hear Living Hour, but selfishly, was also glad. A louder crowd might have drowned the band out, and then everyone would have missed out. Instead, for the small audience that was there, Three Sheets became a listening room.

A few more people had arrived, catching the second half of Living Hour’s set, and stayed to hear local heroes Laundry Day, there to support the touring band.

“Welcome to our spoo-ooky after-Halloween show,” Carlson joked from the stage. ​“Another Halloween has come and gone and I have yet to run into a real ghoul.”

Laundry Day — Alex Burnet and Sam Carlson on guitars and vocals, Kuki Kooks on bass, and Jared Thompson making his debut as the band’s drummer — worked through a set of the band’s songs. Where Carroll and Soloway blended their guitars together, Burnet and Carlson made their guitars contrast. Burnet’s jagged tone was a foil to Carlson’s warmth. Their singing voices, likewise, were a balance of rasp and sweetness, vibe and precision.

But with the overt beauty of Living Hour’s set still hanging in the air, the ear was primed to hear the way the contrasts in Laundry Day’s sound made for a cohesive whole. Burnet and Carlson played a bit like two brothers, telling each other jokes onstage, and at one point even leaning against each other to play, a send-up and homage to rock acts of the past and just another piece of evidence of their own camaraderie. It was a different kind of beauty, a little rougher, but just as good, and everyone stayed until the end to hear it.