I was kind of surprised at how blown away I was by Weekend last Saturday at the Vera Project even with technical difficulties (a blown fuse in the guitar amp) near the end of their set. The San Francisco band’s Slumberland debut hit the streets this week and they were in town supporting fellow label mates the Pains of Being Pure At Heart. There’s something about their waves of cacophonous noise that drill into a sweet spot in my brain. They have this uncanny ability to bury the melodies of their songs just deep enough to where you can barely hear them. You tend to hear the chorus and then the verse disappears down into the depths as each song seems to ebb a flow along the undercurrent of noise they create. Only a three piece, they are easily more than the sum of their parts with the bassist slightly nudging out the guitarists in the effects pedals category. Hope they decided to come back to Seattle soon.
It’s called Sports and it, umm sports the afore mentioned psychotic miasmic melodrama akin to the feedback soaked melodies of Psychocandy era Mary Chain, the hazy juggernaught of Swervedriver, the barrage of Bailter Space, the noisy syncopations of the Pale Saints, the basscentric uproar of Lorelei and goth tinge of Red Lorry Yellow Lorry. If that’s your thing then Weekend are your thing. Here’s their mining disaster song. Wonder if they’d consider covering the Bee Gees’ New York Mining Disaster 1941?
Here’s some blown out video I shot of Coma Summer: