4 Bands Bring Angular Introspection To Summer Heat

Four bands made an emotional evening of music at Never Ending Books Sunday night, as Nose Bleed, Sallow Friend, Mildly Allergic, and Kitchen gave a rapt audience songs that were by turns energetic and meditative, angular and wistful.

Austin, of Nose Bleed, started off the evening with a solo set, explaining that he usually played with a band but that playing by himself would be a ​“fun challenge.” He proved more than up to it. His fingerpicking — sometimes delicate, sometimes driving; sometimes lush, sometimes sparse — gave the songs all the structure and dynamics they needed, and were the empathetic context for his hushed vocals. He gave his introspective, emotional songs a significant counterpoint in his sly, self-deprecating banter.

“I wrote this one yesterday,” he explained in introducing a song early in his set. ​“I watched the movie Scream, and it really freaked me out.”

“The original or the remake?” asked someone in the audience.

“There’s an original?” he replied.

By the time he neared the end of his set, he had the audience with him. ​“I’m bad at talking. Just thought I would let you know,” he said while tuning. ​“Does anyone need anything?” This drew laughter, just as his next line — that the next song was about his cat — drew appreciative cheers.

Hayden and Luke of Sallow Friend offered a prelude to their music through their introduction to the audience.

“Hey, we’re Sallow Friend,” Hayden said.

“Sallow Friend,” Luke echoed, before Hayden had finished his sentence.

“This is our first gig in over two years,” Hayden said.

“Very long time,” Luke added, again overlapping with Hayden.

The band members’ ability to bounce off one another when talking translated to their ability to play music, as the duo embarked on a set of complex songs that eschewed regular verse-chorus structures in favor of songs that deployed idea after idea, working through sharp changes in tempo, meter, and mood. One second they were brooding and atmospheric; the next, harsh and howling. They moved as one through it all, making for a delightful and off-kilter set that never got predictable.

Near the end of their set, Hayden and Luke got the audience to join them. There was a single moment in the following song, Luke explained, when the audience would have to shout ​“bird.” They practiced it a couple times. In the song, Luke warned, ​“it’s going to come up fast.”

“I’m going to be looking at you because I love you and communication is key,” Hayden said to Luke. They began, and the song proceeded through two shifts in speed, from slow and sparse to a little more uptempo. Then it took off. 

“One, two, three,” Luke said to the audience, without warning.

“Bird!” the audience responded, nailing the cue. It was all the evidence needed for how Sallow Friend had connected.

Mildly Allergic followed Nose Bleed’s lead, as singer and guitarist Ryan Shea explained that he, too, usually fronted a band. Without the band, however, he explained that he might be able to dig farther into his own catalog of songs, and deploy covers, that the band didn’t already know. Dispensing with much banter beyond a friendly ​“thank you!” after every song, Shea let his songs do most of the talking, as he bounced from one to the next with little pause. He showed himself to be a nimble, energetic guitarist, the echoes of his band’s bass and drums redolent in his playing, even as he kept his direct, plaintive singing voice front and center. The audience cheered him every step of the way.

The evening ended with a set from Kitchen — a.k.a. James Keegan — who closed it out with the quietest moments of the evening so far. Never Ending Books is an intimate space, and Keegan took full advantage, playing guitar and piano unamplified while singing into a microphone not much above a whisper. The move had an absorbing effect. The heat from the day and the crowded room had brought up the temperature, so the doors to the street were open, and sound from the outside filtered through Keegan’s wistful, haunting music, guitar and piano floating on the rush of passing cars, and voices from the sidewalk carrying into his vocals.

“There’s nothing left but our love,” he sang. But everything was all around him.