<img src="http://i235.photobucket.com/albums/ee136/anuransol/GO-sml.jpg" alt="" />
<strong>By Luke Pimentel
2008.4</strong>
I gave up my clubbing days a while back, owing to the fact that I was rapidly and inevitably approaching the dreaded Three-Ought, and was therefore no longer allowed to do any ?real? partying. So, as I ventured into the claustrophobic confines of San Francisco?s Mezzanine on April 17th, milking a watered-down vodka tonic, I was more than a little self-conscious about the state of my rapidly-decaying youth.
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I discovered quickly, though, that very little about nightclubs had changed in my absence. Garish red lights flashing everywhere? Check. Trippy anime projected against the walls? Check. And ? most tellingly ? mediocre DJs spending eons (and I do mean EONS) laying out bland four-on-the-floor beats in order to the bore the audience toward the bar, only to rev them up again once they?re good and wasted? BIIIIIG check.
Boy, I sure missed out on a lot!
Anyway, by the time the Ghostland Observatory hit the stage at close to midnight, the sold-out crowd had been whipped into an alcohol-inflected frenzy, while I, in my deluded worker-bee state, was thinking I should already be on my way home. (Worknight? Ha!)
Lucky for me, the band I came to see did not disappoint.
For the uninitiated, Ghostland Observatory are a two-man act from Austin, Texas. One guy pounds out rhythms on a bank of synths, knobs, and traditional drums, while the other guy handles vocals and guitar licks.
It should be noted that synth guy sports a blue-white cape with a collar so high it would make Bela Lugosi blush, while singer guy wears his hair in long braids and is never without a giant pair of shades. It?s a stage presence that is - to say the least! - unique. They?re known to the world at large as Thomas Ross Turner and Aaron Behrens, respectively, but to me and my friends, they?re affectionately known as Cape and Pigtails.
<img src="http://i235.photobucket.com/albums/ee136/anuransol/GOcape-is-god.jpg" border="0" alt="" />
<em>photo by Shanti Knapp</em>
The ghostland these dazzling vamps refer to with their moniker is the bygone heyday of glam, funk, and 80?s Jazzercise videos. The act they?ve cooked up to observe it is canny and clever, with one foot in the world of alternative rock, the other (slightly larger) foot in the worlds of dance and electronica. As evidenced by the success of their 2006 breakthrough Paparazzi Lightning and its hit single ?Sad Sad City,? their pastiche mash-ups are both energetic and relentlessly catchy.
For their late-night exploits, Cape and Pigtails prefer to hide behind clouds of thick stage smoke and an awesome fortress of seizure-inducing laser lights that, more often than not, reduces them to mere silhouettes. No doubt if the alien mothership ever does show up, it can use these guys? live show as the landing platform.
When the boys do emerge from behind their arsenal, it is Pigtails who dominates the proceedings. His svelte androgyny and liquid prancing make him look as though the spirit of Freddie Mercury has invaded the body of Pocahontas; when he sings, it is a near-shriek of falsetto that works in perfect harmony with Cape?s whirling, hook-driven synth lines.
<img src="http://i235.photobucket.com/albums/ee136/anuransol/Gpigtails.jpg" border="0" alt="" />
<em>photo by Shanti Knapp</em>
Not subtle stuff, as you might gather. But after countless years of inert disc-twirlers and gravely-voiced mopeheads shoegazing their way through middle-class boredom, Ghostland?s emphasis on fun and showmanship isn?t a goofy anachronism; in fact, it?s downright refreshing.
Thursday night, they brought rockers and clubbers together into one sweaty mass of alterna-haze, and it was entertaining to watch how the clubbers mixed it up with the oh-so-hip rockers, most of whom doggedly resisted the urge to indulge in anything so desperately uncool as shaking their own ass.
<img src="http://i235.photobucket.com/albums/ee136/anuransol/Gghostland5.jpg" border="0" alt="" />
<em>photo by Shanti Knapp</em>
To Ghostland?s credit, though, they had everyone waving their hands and nodding to the beat by the time their ninety-minute set had reached its climax. The lion?s share of the performance was devoted to songs from Paparazzi Lightning and the band?s latest, <em>Robotique Majestique</em>, which made its bow in March. The band reversed normal protocol and front-loaded the set with their best-known material, choosing to devote the latter half to new stuff ? a surprisingly confident move. The new stuff proved solid in the live setting, with ?Heavy Heart?, ?No Place For Me?, and ?Dancing In My Grave? all getting spirited reads. The encore follo wed a similar pattern to the main set, bookending the band?s short career with ?Silver City,? a great tune from debut LP <em>delete.delete.i.eat.meat</em>, and the wicked loops of ?HFM?, one of the closing tracks off Robotique Majestique.
Pigtails ? the band?s spokesman - seemed pleased with the results, exulting to the crowd with typical bombast: ?You guys have turned a cold, cold night into one swingin? hot party!?
It may have been too long a party for a cranky old fart like myself? but even the hopelessly responsible need a late night every once in a while.
And if you?re gonna have one, a trip to the Ghostland is the way to go.
<strong>By Luke Pimentel
2008.4</strong>
I gave up my clubbing days a while back, owing to the fact that I was rapidly and inevitably approaching the dreaded Three-Ought, and was therefore no longer allowed to do any ?real? partying. So, as I ventured into the claustrophobic confines of San Francisco?s Mezzanine on April 17th, milking a watered-down vodka tonic, I was more than a little self-conscious about the state of my rapidly-decaying youth.
<!--more-->
I discovered quickly, though, that very little about nightclubs had changed in my absence. Garish red lights flashing everywhere? Check. Trippy anime projected against the walls? Check. And ? most tellingly ? mediocre DJs spending eons (and I do mean EONS) laying out bland four-on-the-floor beats in order to the bore the audience toward the bar, only to rev them up again once they?re good and wasted? BIIIIIG check.
Boy, I sure missed out on a lot!
Anyway, by the time the Ghostland Observatory hit the stage at close to midnight, the sold-out crowd had been whipped into an alcohol-inflected frenzy, while I, in my deluded worker-bee state, was thinking I should already be on my way home. (Worknight? Ha!)
Lucky for me, the band I came to see did not disappoint.
For the uninitiated, Ghostland Observatory are a two-man act from Austin, Texas. One guy pounds out rhythms on a bank of synths, knobs, and traditional drums, while the other guy handles vocals and guitar licks.
It should be noted that synth guy sports a blue-white cape with a collar so high it would make Bela Lugosi blush, while singer guy wears his hair in long braids and is never without a giant pair of shades. It?s a stage presence that is - to say the least! - unique. They?re known to the world at large as Thomas Ross Turner and Aaron Behrens, respectively, but to me and my friends, they?re affectionately known as Cape and Pigtails.
<img src="http://i235.photobucket.com/albums/ee136/anuransol/GOcape-is-god.jpg" border="0" alt="" />
<em>photo by Shanti Knapp</em>
The ghostland these dazzling vamps refer to with their moniker is the bygone heyday of glam, funk, and 80?s Jazzercise videos. The act they?ve cooked up to observe it is canny and clever, with one foot in the world of alternative rock, the other (slightly larger) foot in the worlds of dance and electronica. As evidenced by the success of their 2006 breakthrough Paparazzi Lightning and its hit single ?Sad Sad City,? their pastiche mash-ups are both energetic and relentlessly catchy.
For their late-night exploits, Cape and Pigtails prefer to hide behind clouds of thick stage smoke and an awesome fortress of seizure-inducing laser lights that, more often than not, reduces them to mere silhouettes. No doubt if the alien mothership ever does show up, it can use these guys? live show as the landing platform.
When the boys do emerge from behind their arsenal, it is Pigtails who dominates the proceedings. His svelte androgyny and liquid prancing make him look as though the spirit of Freddie Mercury has invaded the body of Pocahontas; when he sings, it is a near-shriek of falsetto that works in perfect harmony with Cape?s whirling, hook-driven synth lines.
<img src="http://i235.photobucket.com/albums/ee136/anuransol/Gpigtails.jpg" border="0" alt="" />
<em>photo by Shanti Knapp</em>
Not subtle stuff, as you might gather. But after countless years of inert disc-twirlers and gravely-voiced mopeheads shoegazing their way through middle-class boredom, Ghostland?s emphasis on fun and showmanship isn?t a goofy anachronism; in fact, it?s downright refreshing.
Thursday night, they brought rockers and clubbers together into one sweaty mass of alterna-haze, and it was entertaining to watch how the clubbers mixed it up with the oh-so-hip rockers, most of whom doggedly resisted the urge to indulge in anything so desperately uncool as shaking their own ass.
<img src="http://i235.photobucket.com/albums/ee136/anuransol/Gghostland5.jpg" border="0" alt="" />
<em>photo by Shanti Knapp</em>
To Ghostland?s credit, though, they had everyone waving their hands and nodding to the beat by the time their ninety-minute set had reached its climax. The lion?s share of the performance was devoted to songs from Paparazzi Lightning and the band?s latest, <em>Robotique Majestique</em>, which made its bow in March. The band reversed normal protocol and front-loaded the set with their best-known material, choosing to devote the latter half to new stuff ? a surprisingly confident move. The new stuff proved solid in the live setting, with ?Heavy Heart?, ?No Place For Me?, and ?Dancing In My Grave? all getting spirited reads. The encore follo wed a similar pattern to the main set, bookending the band?s short career with ?Silver City,? a great tune from debut LP <em>delete.delete.i.eat.meat</em>, and the wicked loops of ?HFM?, one of the closing tracks off Robotique Majestique.
Pigtails ? the band?s spokesman - seemed pleased with the results, exulting to the crowd with typical bombast: ?You guys have turned a cold, cold night into one swingin? hot party!?
It may have been too long a party for a cranky old fart like myself? but even the hopelessly responsible need a late night every once in a while.
And if you?re gonna have one, a trip to the Ghostland is the way to go.
