O'Death Quite Lively, Writer Beaten Mercilessly For Pun
[ODeath] sings plays country music, but not the tear in your beer variety or some kind of Toby Keith bullshit. They play the kind of country music the couple in American Gothic would listen to. That is, if instead of going to do their chores, the farmer and his wife invited the painter inside to drink some absinthe and violently defend the farm from some sonovabitch Yankee banker who came to collect on their debts. Before the show started, my friend Amanda expressed some concern that this show would fall short of the one we saw at the Mercury Lounge last December. I cant say her concern was uncalled for since the intimate confines of the Mercury Lounge makes it harder to stand off to the side and look cool than the spacious interior of the Music Hall of Williamsburg. The assumption was that ODeath would bring their A-game, the question is, would our fellow concertgoers?
Hell yes they did, in no small part thanks to the crackling energy provided by the band from the moment they stepped on the stage. Even those who chose not to run up front and get in on the twirling, smashing action of the more animated crowd members must have exhausted themselves just watching the quintet stomp around the stage and whip us all up into a frenzy.
This was thanks in no small part to lead singer Greg Jamies distinct caterwaul (in a good way), a plaintive wail that evokes Appalachia at its most mournful, while his bandmates pitch in with pounding, foot stomping drumming and banjo playing and the most aggressive fiddling north of the Mason-Dixon line. When the wild haired, shirtless dudes say dance, you dance first and ask questions later. There was a slight technical difficulty when Gabe Darling had to go to his backup banjo, but the broken instrument is a testament to how hard these boys go at it.
They packed all they could into about an hour long set, some new mixed in with the old, and while the tempo stayed almost exclusively on faster than light on songs like Adelita and Allie Mae Reynolds, there were a few moments to rest up and grab a partner courtesy of Nathaniel. I tried to introduce Amandas sorority girl friend to the joys of the mosh pit, but what science concluded years ago, I learned firsthand: sorority girls dont dig mosh pits. Her complaints aside (Everyone here needs deodorant), its safe to say the crowd got their fill of gothic country punk rocking and went home happy.
Opener Ponytail provided a change of pace with shrieking, piercing singing over skillfully played post-punk freak outs. If they veer more towards Explosions In The Sky and less towards Animal Collective, they could go from merely good to great.
[Photo by Chris La Putt]