Why Does the Wilbur Theatre Suck? Better Rock Shows in 5 Steps
Photo of the Day, November 24, 2009: Hook, Line, and Sinker
Photo of the Day, November 25, 2009: Boston as seen from the harbor
Cheap Eats: Burtons Grill
Sports Redux: Nobody Puts Bergey In the Corner
It started with comic books flying from the stage. Some people need eBay or Craigslist or a recycle bin to offload their Arion: Lord of Atlantis collection; Humanwine's Holly Brewer needs an audience. Friday night's crowd at the Paradise had come to celebrate the release of the first Humanwine album, Fighting Naked, and to catch airborne back issues.
When M@ McNiss* and the rest of Humanwine appeared, they launched into "Big Brother," a defiant rant that's both paranoid and mocking of paranoia: Let him watch! Placed on a continuum of political art with, say, Get Your War On on the accessible, affable end, Humanwine would be somewhere past the middle, but not quite at the other extreme, with the giant puppet heads and the poetry published in MIM Notes. Brewer, McNiss, & co. are, after all, artsily protesting the post-apocalyptic woes of an alternate universe America-shaped country called Vinland. It's a place of ruins, fascism, and vicious cabaret, or so we gather.
Bostonist, and some chattier members of the audience, probably didn't make it all the way there, and one "stowaway" was literally tossed from the ship (see above), with the audience playing the role of "water," during one of the most successfully theatrical numbers in an evening of relentless theatrics held together by Brewer's accomplished vocals and aggressive gesticulations. Brian Viglione, sans doll makeup, clad only in shorts and smudges of coal, provided bonus drama on the drums. The encore relied on older songs (including their oldest song, described as the genesis of all things Vinlandian) and by that time, Brewer had shed her outer layer of gutterpunk, borrowed contra bassist Paul Dilley was barechested, and Viglione was dressed mostly in sweat.
The band names started long, and got shorter as the show progressed: What Time Is It, Mr. Fox? opened to a sparse but receptive crowd, dousing the Paradise in dark, velvet-jacketed folk rock and rich, Antony-esque singing. Aberdeen City, performing for the first time in months, rocked out in fine form: indie-danceable songs, a swaggering guitarist, and a drummer with a respectable mullet.
Top: A "stowaway," ejected from the stage and tossed around during Humanwine's set. Middle: Aberdeen City goes all out. Bottom: Holly Brewer flips out.
*Bostonist has arbitarily chosen to honor Mr. McNiss's preferred spelling of "Matt," but decided not to caps-lock the band's name ("HUMANWINE") the way they like it.
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You'll be spelling it correctly in the future, the name HUMANWINE, I mean, not only will you spell it correctly but you will also pretend that you had spelled it correctly all along. Eat your shorts Bostonist! LONG LIVE ART RAH! RAH!
-Karen