Brian Slattery Photos
Kid Sistr.
An all-ages matinee show on Sunday at the Space Ballroom — one of the only clubs left in the area that does all-ages shows — proved to be ground zero for young rockers in the greater New Haven area, as three bands ramped up the energy to end the holiday weekend with a bang.
Rob Falcone, of the band Blonde Otter, opened the matinee with a set of originals usually played with a full five-piece band. On Sunday, only two members of Blonde Otter were present — Rob Falcone on guitar and vocals and his brother Matt Falcone on drums, with Sara Keden of Kid Sistr sitting in on bass.
“Sara knows my own songs better than I do,” Falcone joked. But judging from the audience reaction, even fans familiar with Blonde Otter’s usual, fuller sound were taken along by the trio’s stripped-down version. The songs combined danceable beats with plaintive vocals, laid over harmonic structures that didn’t call attention to themselves but were full of little surprises. In between songs Falcone was self-deprecating and funny, and clearly pleased to be playing with Keden.
“I don’t think people usually hire two-fifths of a band and then sub in for them, so this is a really nice thing,” he said. He also had a cover that was intended for the “fellow paisans” in the audience, an amiable take on “You’re Nobody ‘Til Somebody Loves You,” made famous by Dean Martin. “Thanks for watching. Thanks for enjoying. Thanks for listening,” Falcone said at the end of his set. The audience responded with hearty applause, suitably warmed up for the music to come.
Carter Vail — like Falcone, a Connecticut native — then delivered a jolt of high energy with a set of songs that all felt like pop hits in the making, or, in another sense, pop hits that had already happened. The songs themselves were instantly catchy and full of hooks, but it was Vail’s committed performance, backed by a full band, that brought them home. Redolent of the best alt-pop songwriting of the 1980s, it also felt like a fresh update. Vail took the anthemic yearning of that previous era and gave it a knowing, contemporary twist, finding his own place in the sound to say something new with it. It was heartache with a knowing wink, drama with a sly grin.
“Amazing!” he said near the beginning of his set. “It’s noon or something, and you’re all out here and it feels like the middle of the night.” He shouted out his little cousins and several family members who were among the audience who had come to see him, but his infectious enthusiasm made everyone feel welcome, drawing more and more intense rounds of cheers and applause after every song.
Kid Sistr — Sabel on guitar, Sara Keden on bass, and Rebecca Webster on drums, with each member singing — then exploded onto the stage with their first song. “We came here to rock — now!” Keden said, and rock the trio did, unleashing a firestorm of energy that immediately had people moving their feet. By turns savage and hilarious, combining musical dexterity and straight-to-the-gut delivery, Kid Sistr rampaged through a set of their music that revealed them all as whip-smart musicians unafraid to wear their hearts on their sleeves. Sabel and Keden also had a group of family in the audience, and Keden joked early on at her mild embarrassment (clearly well hidden) at singing Kid Sistr’s songs in front of her grandparents. In music and in banter, the trio excelled at ricocheting ideas off one another and just letting the sparks fly.
In the second half of Kid Sistr’s set, the band members opened out their sound to find moments of real beauty and darkness. “This is our breakup song,” Sabel announced at one point. “If you’ve got any of those breakup feelings, just let them out,” Keden added. “Cry. Cry! This is a safe space.” A song the band had written about sisters held added poignancy because both Sabel’s and Keden’s sisters happened to be in the audience.
That let Keden make a deeper point. “We want to empower women and people who don’t get to do this music thing,” she said. She related how, at the beginning of her life as a musician, she was often the only woman in the room, and “it was a crappy feeling. I didn’t realize it until I played with these ladies here.” It was a moment of both strength and vulnerability. By the end of the set, though, Kid Sistr brought it all full circle; after the melancholy of a song called “Dallas,” the band made sure they ended the weekend with a party.
“I ask you to rock with us,” Keden said before the band’s last song. “Who’s ready to get rowdy? This is the time.” Webster hit the drums, and the audience seized the moment.
