Colin Roberts Photos
Rex.
On Friday night, Cafe Nine played host to a pair of bands — Snake Oil and Rex — that had both been out of commission for some time. The Connecticut- and New York-based Snake Oil hadn’t played since 2019. Rex’s current run of shows marked the first since their unceremonious split in the late 1990s. Before that, however, their trio of albums — rex, C and 3 — were pivotal in the development of the indie rock subgenre known as slowcore. With two-thirds of the records seeing a recent reissue, the formerly-Brooklyn-based-by-way-of-Maine band reunited to take their songs to a new generation of audiences.
Snake Oil.
Snake Oil started up the evening with their take on psychedelic indie rock, the four-piece locking into a deceptively complex groove that got heads in the audience nodding. At the core of Snake Oil’s songs were the rhythm section — drummer Jason Labbe and bassist Adrian Van De Graaf — whose driving pulse laid the foundation. At the forefront were keyboardist/vocalist Emily Lee and guitarist/vocalist Kelly L’Heureux, who worked off each other’s skillful playing to create an ethereal blend of ’70s psychedelia and ’90s indie rock.
With hardly a look into the audience ‚the band stormed through a short set of entrancing songs, Lee taking lead vocals for the majority. In moments when Lee and L’Heureux shared vocal duty, as in the ending of “Pattern of Skulls,” the pair’s voices weaved in and out of each other in a haunting coil of melody. The group closed their set with “Blood Moon,” the last track from their 2019 album, Dying of Sunsets; it was a song that glided along on L’Heuruex’s serene guitar playing, slowly dissolving into silence.
With hardly a word to the audience, Rex played a long set of their slow plodding, moody indie rock. The core trio of guitarist/vocalist Curtis Harvey, bassist Phil Spirito, and drummer Doug Scharin were joined by an additional keyboardist, adding texture and fullness to the band’s sound. Looking more like a group of “cool dads” than rockers, the band trudged through fan favorites like “Nothing Is Most Honorable Than You” and “High School Dance Hit,” Harvey’s off-key vocals endearing in a way that can only work in ’90s music.
Rex’s loud-quiet-loud dynamic, anchored by the potent precision drumming of Scharin, came off even more powerfully live than on record. The group sounded as completely in control in near silence as they did with blaring distortion.
As the set carried on, the audience began to filter out, but a dedicated group stayed up front swaying along to every song. An audience member even convinced the band to do an impromptu version of “This Is A Recording,” a more-jagged, angular cut from their debut album.
“We missed you too,” Harvey responded to someone in the crowd during a break between songs. It was clear the band was happy to be back and enjoying playing their old material, and that sense of joy could be felt in the music.
