Brian Slattery Photos
Punchlove.
John Zaccaria of the Knife Kickers spoke for many — including other musicians later in the evening — when he asked a vital question: “Why am I sweating in December?” It was warm with torrential rain outside, but the question was more about the temperature inside, as four bands blazed their way through sets of indie rock to an enthusiastic audience that arrived early and stayed late to bob their heads and hang at Best Video in Hamden.
The Connecticut-based Knife Kickers started out the evening with a quick set of sharp originals. “What’s up? Thanks for coming out early,” said singer and guitarist John Zaccaria. “We’re going to start right … now!”
“Right … now!” echoed Mike Barry. Then they really did start. The quick joke between them was emblematic of the band’s playing, as Zaccaria, Barry, and drummer Austin Traver barrelled through songs marked by switches in tempo, volume, and texture that meant they never ended where they started. Barry and Traver locked into a thick sound while Zaccaria’s guitar ranged from chunky power chords to intricate tapping and fingerpicking, sometimes all in the space of a minute, as his voice went from a forlorn moan to a baleful scream. This was a band that made every tight transition and also knew when to cut loose. They ended their set on a dime, too: with an “OK, thanks,” from Zaccaria, they seemed to be off the stage before the applause ended.
With two guitars and vocalists, bass, and drums, the Brooklyn-based Punchlove — Jillian Olesen, Ethan Williams, and Wil Ren, switching off all the stringed instruments, and Ian Lange-McPherson on drums — created the kind of thick, hazy atmosphere their set of shoegaze originals requireed, whether they were going uptempo for saturated rockers or slowing it down to swim in the waves of sound they created. It was wistful and searching without ever getting melancholy; on occasion the music sounded even triumphant. That sense of optimism showed up in banter from Williams to the audience. In checking out their equipment just before the set, the crowd was treating to an array of glitchy audio.
“That’s the set,” Williams deadpanned, to laughs. Then added “we usually play in a space smaller than this, believe it or not.” Later on he asked if anyone in the audience had come to Best Video to actually return a videotape. When someone yelled out yeah! he seemed gratified.
Vocalist and guitar Eric Zider declared that Best Video “is probably the coolest place we’ve ever played” (was he sincere or does he say that at every tour stop? Either way, it worked) before he and his band Tosser — including Ryan Plummer, Jonas Farah on drums, and Brendan Agnew on guitar — launched into set of raw, blistering songs that did justice to the punk legacy of their hometown of Washington, DC.
Tosser had the sludgiest sound of the night, with two fuzzed out guitars and a grinding rhythm section. The thickness of the sound couldn’t hide the clever song structures, however, with angular harmonic moves and a few odd time signatures thrown in for good measure while Zider kept the connection to the audience with chanting vocals that burst into occasional screams. The songs ended as their began, in a squall like a slow-moving alarm, but when Zider said “thanks for being here, this is awesome” at the end, he sounded like he meant every word.
Host band Wally then took the stage with an armada of band members. Wally featured Best Video staffers Teo Hernandez on vocals and guitar and Lucas Hernandez on vocals and keys, along with Alex Blair on vocals and guitar, Alex Yoo and Kabir Adhiya-Kumar on percussion, and Sam Reiss on bass. Together the quintet made a rich, textured sound, built first on the sweet harmonies between Blair and the Hernandez brothers, but fanning outward to encompass both guitarists’ intricate parts, the filigreed lines from the keys, and a leaping, solid bass. Add to that two percussionists who kept up a whirlwind rhythm while also never quite playing the same thing twice, and Wally became a band more than ready to take on the long, sprawling songs that the Hernandez brothers and Blair cooked up. Two fleet-footed openers gave way to a heavier number; then the band got almost pastoral, before dipping a little into Latin jazz and ending on a song that featured a percussion jam of kit and samples along with a wall of guitars. It was smart, complex, exploratory music, all of it made instantly accessible by the sunny vocals and a relentless sense of fun and optimism that flowed from the band during and between songs.
“So y’all are here instead of Sunday night football. Crazy,” Blair said, to laughter. When Teo Hernandez proclaimed that he was “sweating like a mother up here,” with the positive energy in the room, it was easy to understand why.
