DZ Deathrays @ Glasslands (6.12.12) DZ Deathrays @ Glasslands (6.12.12)

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It was a dark and stormy night, right? On a Tuesday of all fucking days. I was in Brooklyn dressed all wrong (that is, to say, practically) and sipping a Lager because I just can’t say no to a tall boy at any price even if it’ll leave a disused ashtray afterbite. Some lumbering ginger drunk had almost fought me for a little blue Bic and I’d just seen another band with a goddamn question mark in their name play. Uncle rock. I was feeling glum, a little worried (still) for my pups and whatever the fuck was currently wreaking havoc in their digestive tracks and just the slightest bit concerned that DZ Deathrays – one of the only bands I was legitimately pissed I missed at the great Austin post-culture clusterfuck of SXSW – would be unable to deliver the drunk young promise of amplified sex chaos of their recent LP, Bloodstreams.

They are a duo, after all, and duos have the tendency to come off better in the studio unless they’re Lightning Bolt and the studio’s their knit-mask madness home or Mecca Normal and you’re a fucking Olympia K tween again*.

Also, New York audiences suck. Brooklyn audiences are worse.

The crowd stood bored and judgmental from the get go (Shark?? Shark? SHARK!) and the odd, slurred murmurs that John Barrett (of headliners Bass Drums of Death, also sold as a duo but often playing with a third, unspoken hair guitar man) “was just the fucking best” gave every indication that DZ would be facing a wall of indifference. One so high and wet and merciless it would be all but impossible to rock the fuck out against.

But rock the fuck out, DZ Deathrays did. Tearing through their tracks like “Dollar Chills” and “No Sleep” (from their EP of the same name) as hard as if they were on the precipice of a frothing, shitless circle pit. As freely as a dozen teenage kids, hopped up on Bud Light and Ephedrine who stole someone’s brother’s half stack and – having confused the Pixies for Thin Lizzy irate metal blues – decided the only way to play punk rock was to light themselves on fire…FOR ART! FOR FUCK! FOR FUCKING EVER!

So, yeah. They were awesome.

I only wish they’d played “The Mess Up.”

*I look forward to your comments.



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