August 02, 2005
The band members were casually hanging around the Circle Bar's living room before they were scheduled to perform. The next thing I knew the band started into their set without warning. In black and white make-up. The guitarist wore black dress shoes with dark socks and shorts, while the female bassist had a full face of white. The drummer just had the area beneath his chin covered in white paint. He was a greying man wearing swimming trunks and no shirt. There was something strangely dangerous about this sight, especially since the last time I saw him he was super-reserved, nice, and dressed in overalls. The sometimes lead singer mumbled quick nonsense accented here and there. He was dressed up like an upper east side marsupial mutant. He preened like a crazed something let loose, too. Like a very angry, animal son of Mick Jagger that has been raised in the woods that can't speak and is just coming to the world and trying to express itself. He patted down everyone's head in the audience's front row with an angry confidence.
The San Diego weirdo-thrash quartet played eight short songs and called it a night. Business Lady was smart to start at 11:30. This was definetely the type of music that would drive the regulars out. It wasn't really happy music. More like screaming, confrontational music.
Like Glorybee sped up. It was led by guitar just as much as synthesizer. The songs that had melodies from both instruments were the best numbers. Unlike Glorybee, there was a definite base created by heavy bass and manic drumming. The band rocketed through strange beats and took on awkward changes like it wadn't no thang. They came to rock. Damn the torpedoes.
The concert was a very enjoyable moment that passed by way too quick. But, maybe to give us just a taste--there were only about fifteen people there to see it. Hopefully those fifteen will tell a friend and we'll get thirty out there to see Business Lady next time.