Fall & Rise of the Rising Fallen

With the Bowery looking more and more like the Upper East Side, and landmark clubs becoming commercialized beyond all recognition or altogether disappearing, it should be no surprise that interesting bands can be located in completely nontraditional spaces these days—like theaters. Or that a band like The Rising Fallen is really just a theatrical conceit, the brainchild of a theater company called Banana Bag and Bodice.

Like a cocktail that’s two parts emo to one part hardcore, The Rising Fallen has everything an alt-rock band needs to succeed in today’s world: band members with seriously disturbing back-stories, music with a sound that ranges from the freewheeling, plaintive wail to the fist-waving garage-rock anthem and a nagging sense that everything they tell you about themselves happens to be an utter lie. You figure this out, for example, when one band member notes that the only place they can get gigs (besides P.S. 122) is on oil rigs; running motifs about Scandinavian men and lost-at-sea girlfriends offer us opportunities to see cracks in the band’s oh-so-serious facade.

Ultimately, this is a concept punk band that isn’t so much amplified at 11 on a scale of 10, like Spinal Tap, but instead set tongue-in-cheekily at pi. The concept sticks itself into your ribcage—nudge, nudge—until you either laugh or surrender to the insanity, at which point you can toss yourself mosh-pit-style into a delirium of head-banging. Whether it’s the “post-punk ’80s” sound or the sense that this isn’t your favorite tween’s kind of Green Day, BB&B’s theatrical sense—heightened by mope-rock lyrics—is the anarchy between music and theater, a combustible mix.

Through May 12. P.S. 122, 150 1st Avenue (betw. 9th & 10th Sts.), 212-352-3101; $20.