Unlike so many in the NYC scheme, I don’t have a particular fondness for Death by Audio. I never was nor ever will be opposed to the devilishly artful enticement created on S. 2nd seven years ago by a couple of noiseniks and their art fucking maniac friends (maybe a little, at the beginning, when the chic starting crashing the Oregon House meat orgies but that is/was a passing palsy). I just didn’t go there very often. Once, maybe twice before tonight. Three times in a blackout? I think I thought DbA was the place where I saw The Shit make their last stand but that’s probably a chocolaterie now or something similarly charmingly bloated and bespoke. I don’t know. Brooklyn changes with an unnerving frequency.
Anyway, just I want it to be clear that I am not in any position to effectively eulogize Death by Audio’s passing. I mean, it sucks that there’ll one less place come Sunday to lap the sweat of mayhem dripping off curated walls as your eardrums explode and the Tecate flows like water and – the way the big, dumb city has been unflinchingly imploding the last decade – I am worried that there may never be again and that hurts my concrete heart in ways I’ve grown deaf from expressing but the truth of the matter is I just went to DbA last Saturday to see a fucking rock show featuring a band I dig, some I think I should and a big fat question mark of a closer.
So here’s a brief synopsis:
Ovlov opened a packed house with some fuzz box nerd garage overture kind bud party vibe which was hella fine but I had expected more of a threat. Big Ups blew my fillings loose with their bratty ass-shaking, face-kicking punk RAWK! melee. Yvette brought the noise damage hard and charmed with smoke and floodlights and pedals, so many pedals.
And then there was Les Savy Fav…