Sorry @ Barboza (Seattle)
I don’t love going to shows in Seattle. I do because the alternative is worse, but New York has pretty much ruined my show going experience in all other cities. Sorry at Barboza was pretty amazing, though. Pre-show the band was hanging around in what you would expect any touring band to be wearing — hoodies, winter scarves and jackets — but when it was time for them to step on the stage, they were fully suited up. It sounds like a small thing, but that sort of intentional shift completely transformed the band. Starting off the same where their latest record Anywhere But Here does with “Let the Lights Off”, there was a clear difference in the sound from the recorded and live version. While the recorded version of many of Sorry’s songs have an almost sparkling production quality to them, they were much grittier and raw live. They still implemented electronic elements and the arrangements weren’t lacking or lesser than the recorded, but there was a roughness and energy to the liver version. The live arrangements allowed each band member’s individual parts to shine through in new and interesting ways I hadn’t initially heard on the record. It really amplified just how fucking good of songwriters they are. There was literally not a single weak point.
Asha Lorenz is one of the most vulnerable and impassioned vocalists I’ve seen in a long time. Maybe it’s because her lyrics also cut like a knife, but (at the risk of oversharing on main) I was pretty close to tears multiple times that evening. There were moments during the set as well when she had trouble continuing on herself. It’s that emotion and intensity that have made this latest release really stand out, for me. Louis O’Bryen brought the crowd to a captivated standstill when he started the stripped back intro to “Tell Me” with both a softness and somberness. The two played off each other and the rest of the band seamlessly. After they finished the set, the audience would not stop clapping. The band had to peak their heads out several times before convincing the group to do an encore. Anywhere But Here is easily a top album of 2022 for me and the live show just further cemented that.
Pretty Sick @ Bowery Ballroom
Words by Layla Passman
Grunge always seems to draw me in. Apathy in the face of disruption. Being great, but not caring. It’s something that we all strive for a little bit, though hard to admit. There’s a humbleness to it, and while over 30 years old, it remains cool.
I’ve admired Pretty Sick for some time. She is a grunge star reincarnate, an artist that scratches an itch and makes you have faith in the genre. When she announced she would release a full album in late September, I thought it would save my fall. I look to an album to be the soundtrack of a time of change in my life. Walking with your headphones in, your heart drops, and you just know you’ll never be the same.
I get past the security guy’s doubts around my age and down the steps to the Bowery Ballroom. The downstairs is dim with deep orange lights. Couches border the walls, populated with well-dressed young women. A dressing that is specific to this particular scene, all taking reference to Sabrina Fuentes, or Pretty Sick’s founder and lead. Loose jeans, knitwear, and a wide array of winter hats that stay on throughout. I’m circled by those lounging, talking, and darting their eyes. It feels like a Victorian parlor where it’s finally my turn to play the harp as everybody watches and whispers.
Every girl that’s in a band in New York is here. I greet those I know and pretend to not see the ones I want to be like. We’re all looking around — every few seconds your eyes lock with another heavy-lined eye until you both become startled, and continue your gaze. I can’t tell if it feels like competition or camaraderie. Fuentes is a shepherd in a world of female songwriter softness and overly-complicated post-punk. She’s for those, especially girls, in between who want to be loud, messy, and hysterical because they can be. So many other female rock musicians have paved the way so that Pretty Sick can stand proud, and it’s evident that the women there know that too. We love them, which is why we love her.
The show claimed to be sold out but there was plenty of room to move around. I went up to the balcony level. Right next to the VIP section, but not quite. The drums start banging a familiar beat. Fuentes appears in high red stilettos and underwear to match, veiled by a fully transparent black eyelet dress and a bottle of champagne. Fuentes lets out a huge “Hello New York”, and the audience screams back at her. She is one of them. Born and raised in New York, she has always possessed the electric cool that only city kids have. Maybe it’s being born into the high energy of New York, maybe it’s being surrounded by creative and successful people from childhood, but transplants will never be it, though they try. Her eclectic-ness is enviable. It seems both referential and totally personal.
The crowd roars as she comes out. This is her homecoming after a supporting and solo tour spanning the UK and US. There’s an excitement in her eyes as she ravenously screams into the microphone. She starts singing Allen Street, a song from a previous EP and a clear ode to growing up in New York. I look from above as the teenagers bring the song into a mosh pit, overcome by having their experiences completely understood. The song abruptly stops as Fuentes topples over. Maybe not everything can be done with heels on. She surrenders to the end of Allen Street and just goes to the next song barefoot. The noise of her second bassist moves the crowd like a snake charmer’s flute. Having two basses caused the floor to thump between your toes, and her backing projection to shake with every note. It was difficult to make out Fuente’s lyrics with heaps of low notes combined with her own intoxication. A few songs in, Fuentes openly admitted that her hometown friends got her a bit too drunk before the show, which became evident as the show went on.
I waited and waited for this album to change how I felt. Maybe that’s too much to put on another person’s work, but my listening left me unsatisfied. Her sound is all there — scuzzy, deep bass that makes you want to melt, in tension of her screams, and at points a rare manipulation that sounds like a dove’s coo. While there were some songs, or parts of songs, that I loved, it fell short as a whole piece of work. Many of the songs felt like I had heard them before. Maybe because I listen to too many of her influences, or maybe she held those references too close.
I am always a proponent of authenticity. You don’t go to shows to hear the songs exactly as you would in your headphones. You go to see a real person — their messiness, their noise, their on-stage banter. But when do the artist’s tendencies begin to weigh on the work they are trying to display? Many times throughout the show, Fuentes’ vocals were off-beat with the rest of the band, and songs seemed not so tight for a group that’s just getting off of tour. The crowd didn’t seem to care. If this is the authentic Pretty Sick performance, then they welcome it. Despite the muffled vocals and off beat starts, her drunkenness gave the show the revived edge that makes rockstars interesting to watch.
As the live music industry starts to feel the pressure of reevaluation, from the behavior of crowds to the pay of the artists, it is no surprise that performers want to lash out in the ways they know how. Not caring, may be the only way for them to feel in control as the walls seem to cave in on the industry. In a loud beg, Fuentes screams, “Tell me how much you love me” to the audience. Without them, there would be no energy to feed off of. It seems for Fuentes, the best way to respond to this pressure is by telling everyone else to fuck off. She leans into the validation from those right in front of her, the instant gratification of sincere adoration, and checks everything else backstage. Everyone in the room is reminded that this time and space is for her to enjoy and others to watch.
I run down from the balcony as she plays her last song, Human Condition, her strongest of her pre-release singles. While off-paced, I tried to sing along as best I could. The band retreated briefly, then came out for two encores. Both older hits that the audience sang aloud to, with a culmination of feedback to close. Fuentes thanks her fans and admits to being an alcoholic before trust falling back into her adoring crowd of teenagers. This is not an admission of guilt, but an act of letting go in the wake of overwhelming pressure to perform. As the live music industry becomes increasingly inequitable and unsustainable for artists, the nature of live performances is in the midst of breaking apart. Whether it be dangerous overcrowding, harassment of the performer, or grueling tours with little compensation, each time an artist steps on stage, they’re subject to scrutiny even from those who paid to see them. When the pressure becomes too much to bear, maybe the best thing to do is to not care.
It wouldn’t be fair to say that Pretty Sick does not care about performing well or pleasing their fans. Many of us have had a night where we had too much to drink, which is why the audience doesn’t care about her stage manner, but rather her truthfulness during any given moment.
I left the venue a little let down. You want the songs to play out exactly as they are in your head, to feel as you felt the first time you listened. But like anything live, things are bound to be different. Though imperfect, the show was raucous and gritty, and had the crowd of teenagers see a bit of themselves in her. To me, that is how grunge continues evolving as time goes on, but remains aspirational to all who listen.
The 1975 @ WaMu Theater
I wasn’t a massive The 1975 stan growing up — I leaned more AM during that specific tumblr era. I did rinse I like it when you sleep… on many a roadtrip in college mainly because it was as CD I actually had and “Somebody Else” is a genuinely great song. I had never seen the band live, though, and wasn’t sure quite what to expect.
Maybe that’s a lie. I had a seen a good deal of what this tour looked like online. I think The 1975 tour is only second to Harry Styles at MSG in its nonstop online regurgitation. I couldn’t escape seeing videos of Matty Healy eating raw meat or making out with someone if I wanted to. The set looked amazing as well so I was definitely expecting a spectacle and a spectacle I got.
Going to shit on WaMu for a second — weird ass venue. Completely GA throughout but just like not good sightlines and everyone in there was on one. My friend who was with me turned to me to ask if The 1975 were a “drug-y band” after seeing what appeared to be a threesome rolling. I was pleasantly surprised to see that I was the median age with a smattering of people much older and younger than me as well.
Matty Healy is a showman through and through. And you do kind of love to hate him. He is just so much, but you find yourself completely captivated and unable to look away. The show was split into two “acts” with primarily the new record in act I (a true pop record with a more orchestral style instrumentation behind it) and The Hits
in Act II (pop music with guitars). Act I had guitars in it as well, but I was struggling to pick them out in the mix. It sounded very synth heavy and almost a completely different band than the one that put out “Chocolate” and “Sex”. Makes sense (it’s been 9 years), but to see the transition and evolution all in one set was really interesting.
There was a dude behind me that after every song he would yell, “SOME-BO-DY-ELSE! THAT’S WHAT WE’RE ALL HEEEREE FOOORRR!” When they finally did play it there was a sigh of relief knowing our pain would be over, only to have him continue yelling after the song was done. Easily the highlight of the night was when Healy told everyone to jump. I usually hate that shit. He had asked for nothing all night though and my friend who’s a diehard stan told me I had to and she was right. The whole crowd gave themselves over to that moment. There was no posturing or being too cool, just abandon.
I have to say, the whole thing was really impressive. The scale of it all, the theatrics, the body of work. Shit on them all you want, but The 1975 is not to be fucked with. Without their healthy dose of chaos, the whole thing might be a little too sheeny and perfectly packaged, but the mess is what makes it fun and keeps the fans in an obsessive cycle. Will Matty Healy get cancelled today? Who knows. We’re just along for the ride.
Disq and Sea Lemon @ Barboza
I feel like I live at Barboza sometimes. Almost every single show I go to when I’m in Seattle is there. An almost every single time I see Enzo from Ultra Q there. It’s always a good sign when you see music friends at the gig that you picked a good one.
Truthfully, I went to this gig for Sea Lemon. I hadn’t seen the project before, but a friend invited me out. I can’t remember the last time a band made me so happy. I just had a stupid smile on my face the whole time. Natalie Lew fronts the project and is the most charming person you’ve ever seen. Just genuinely sweet and like sunshine personified. The coolest voice as well.
I was curious to see Disq because do you ever feel like there are those bands you just see around? Like in your general orbit or surrounding. Or in the recommended artists for people you listen to. Disq is one of those bands. Which is surprising to me because I couldn’t really say they sound like anyone I listen to. If anything, Disq has too many good ideas. As a live band, they’re super sick. I promised myself I would leave early cause I had to catch and early flight, but I had a hard time pulling myself away. The songs themselves have me torn, though. There were parts I really loved, parts that were a little too mathy for my liking, and parts when I wanted them to just keep the song simple with the perfect part they wrote instead of fucking with it and going 180 degrees in the opposite direction in spurts throughout. They’re a very sick band, just maybe not the band for me.
CELINE @ The Wiltern
This was easily one of the craziest things I’ve been to. I’m not a fashion girlie, but the show was called “The Age of Indieness” so there was a heavy indie sleaze/music influence. I got to the theater around 7:45PM and promptly had my point and shoot confiscated. Inside was dimly lit in red and gold lighting with mini bottles of moet chandon made into adult sippy in everyone’s hand. I made my way downstairs to the restroom where I saw Austin Butler just chilling in the lobby area. I ran into our editor in chief and living legend Nasa in the bathroom. New York showed up strong for this one. Gustaf, Been Stellar, Beach Fossils, Frost Children, Sunflower Bean, The Dare, and The Ion Pack were all in attendance.
The show started off very strong. A brilliant, glittering double C CELINE logo light fixture folded down from above to the sound of a phone ring and voicemail before launching into The White Stripe’s “Hello Operator”. This is arguably a perfect runway song with a strong strut to it and the clothes looked sick coming out. They were very 2006-core with slouchy oversized bags, skinny jeans, sequins, faux fur, it was like golden age tumblr and the cobrasnake archives come to life. What none of us could have anticipated though was that “Hello Operator” (a roughly 2 min track) would play on repeat for the rest of the show. None of us will ever be able to hear that song the same ever again (if at all).
After the fashion show was the after party which included food and cocktails in full CELINE branding from the ice cubes to the pizza boxes and what was my personal highlight of the evening — the live performances. Iggy Pop, The Strokes, and Interpol all performed. I would be lying to say I wasn’t concerned for how Iggy Pop was going to be live, but honestly I was blown away. The fact that this dude is 75 and ripping off a bejeweled blazer 30 seconds into his set, mic in pants, spitting on himself — dude knows how to give a show. Such an iconic catalog and performer, it was really sick to see. He also used the runway which was built out from the stage into the audience to its full capacity, strutting and shaking his way all over. After Iggy, The Strokes were up. I had never seen The Strokes live and had heard varying reviews, but they were honestly fucking fantastic. They sounded exactly like the record minus stylistic liberties. They played all hits as well with the exception of “Killing Lies”. A handful of people climbed up on the runway to dance during “Hard to Explain”. The crowd up there quickly grew before everyone was ushered off by security at the end of the song. And then The Strokes may or may not have encouraged everyone to get back up on stage for the last song. Models, musicians, the whole front section of people propelled themselves up on the runway to dance on the buckling runway before security cut the music. I’m not sure when the last time The Strokes played to a crowd without a barricade was, but it looked like they were all having a genuinely great time and every person I spoke to afterwards said it was the best they’d ever seen them.
After The Strokes, I hung out in the lobby a bit by the DJ station where The Dare was playing some new music along with the infamous “Girls”. People would make their way over during girls to capture on their instagram story before dancing away. Interpol wrapped up the evening, but sadly much of the crowd had left after The Strokes. There was still a mini mosh pit for “PDA”, though. They wrapped around 1AM and we quickly rushed to the lobby to grab a photo booth pic and see what the after after party plans were. There was talk of a villa, but we ended up going to Denny’s. Great LA night. 10/10