By Reed Fischer
By Anna Gulbrandsen
By Jeff Gage
By Stacy Schwartz
By Natalie Gallagher
By Erik Thompson
By Jeff Gage
By Loren Green
The first thing to notice about Daughters of the Sun (a reconstituted Tora! Tora! Torrance!) is that no member lacks a Y chromosome. Last Friday night at Club Underground, groovy vamps swelled over singer-guitarist Nick Koenigs (pictured) with his sweet-leaf belt buckle and shamanic body rotations. A mist of blond locks swirled in majestic slow motion 'round his head, and the loud vibe dared you to pin it down. Lyrics rose and fell in the din, and a damp emotional content vaporized from between the chords. Maybe it's time for retro-shoegazer music?
Eufio's farewell set was sad and sweet, complete with a righteous Hüsker Dü cover ("Target"). Let the record show that the very last song they ever played was a brand-new one called "This, That, the Other," which switched from anger to Dorothy Gale's "no place like home" reverie halfway through.
I hereby nominate garage trio Death to Our Enemies as the Band Most Likely to Fill the Vast Empty Space that the Midnight Evils Left Behind (with all due consideration to Chooglin'). There were too many groovy nuggets to mention, but--like a sack of gerbils--it was squirmy and biting all around. The set peaked when singer-guitarist Matt Coffee declared, "the only place past outer space is outside of outer space," thereupon launching into an echoplex guitar jam that ping-ponged across our brainpan like that last Hawkwind summit.
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