You’ll forgive me, dear reader, if I sound like I’m doing a night of reruns. But I am, mostly. Can you recall my fits of ecstatic joy from a few nights ago, when I first saw The Muckers? Well, if you can’t, then I assume you’re already clicking on another page. But if you’re catching my metaphoric drift, then perhaps you’ll fully sympathize with the fact that I started my Saturday evening by scooting over to the Neurolux to catch these guys for a second time in 48 hours. I was spellbound. And mind you, they were first on the bill tonight, so I was stone-cold sober. So if you attribute my enthusiasm to a buttload of beers, just this one time YOU ARE WRONG. This band is so cool, I only needed a combination of bath-salts and heroin to enjoy them the first time. But this second time was marked by pure, unmitigated clearheadedness. So there. I didn’t get any pics, but I did take another of the ongoing mural around back.
Next I skedaddled over to the main stage, admittedly because I wanted to part ways with the six remaining beer tokens I had in my left pocket. (Seriously.) I was tempted to drink beer, flirt with unobtainable women, and see what remained of my evening. Interestingly, after a less-than-stellar cover band, there was a long hiatus. I assume roadies and tech guys were having a problem setting up Andrew W.K.’s set, because, as we all know, he plays only extremely complicated orchestral numbers and demands perfect acoustic sounds. But hey, we were in luck: Solomon Giorgio came onstage and did a surprise 15 minutes!
After I had quaffed a few from my tin cup (or whatever that metallic Treefort cup is made out of–aluminum? adamantium?), I figured I’d best get my narrow ass over to The Shredder. Word on the street was, along with the previously-announced gigs, Treepeople would be doing yet another Treefort appearance. Plus Toy Zoo, a band for which we here at Jet Black have an already-stated boner, was playing.
But I was pleasantly surprised by a few of the preceding acts. Just after I walked into the joint, The French Tips started their set.
A local three-piece act whose Facebook page describes them as a “disco occult band”, I was impressed as hell. They played a handful of dark, brooding ditties that left me curious as to why I’d never heard them before. These young ladies are going places. And if those places charge attendance at the door, I will gladly be paying the fee.
Next up was a total treat: Selector Dub Narcotic.
For those of you unaware of the work of Calvin Johnson, this may be his most charming project to date…and I say that as a rabid fan of both Beat Happening and The Halo Benders. As with much of his back catalog, it’s hard to tell if this incarnation–freestyling over synth loops and cut-rate beats–is a brilliant put-on, or the work of a fearless intellectual ninja, but to dwell on these things is to miss the point entirely. It’s a hoot, and if it makes you wanna shake your derriere, so much the better.
And who doesn’t like Toy Zoo?! Admittedly, I’m a tad biased here, but this band is one of the better ones Boise can claim as its own.
Since I wouldn’t trust myself to describe their sound, let me steal a description from their Bandcamp page: “their sound can veer in scope from raw post-punk to synthesized bliss to heavy, rollicking doom-influenced punk.” Oh, but they left out something: They’re good. Damn good. Go find their new album, “Beast or Boot”, before you’re the last sonofabitch on your block to own a copy.
Fourth up was local act Sick Wish. A friend of mine had hyped these fellas to me just before they started playing, and I was not disappointed.
Synth-driven, hard-edged music with pop sensibilities. I encourage you to find their album, “Riddelvoid,” or the split-7″ they did with the aforementioned Toy Zoo.
Wrapping up the night’s show was another glorious performance by Treepeople.
What can I say that I haven’t already said about this band? Their set this evening was fairly similar to the previous night’s, but they tacked on a few songs at the end, like “Liquid Boy,” which I hadn’t heard them play in decades. And the kind folks at The Shredder gave in to the crowd’s chants and turned on their giant “FUCK” sign above the stage, as a bonus. As you’d expect, I was ecstatic, and clearly so was the rest of the packed house. It was a joy to behold, even if some girl spilled beer on the poster I had just bought. Nothing, not even cheap beer, was dampening my spirits after this show. If you missed it, you’d better have a doctor’s note.

New Cassette by James Plane Wreck