Wednesday Nov. 14th, Soda Bar San Diego, CA.
There is nothing that draws my interest then a band I've never heard of then putting out a reviewed LP and touring the west coast in the same month. You can bet that on a typical night in San Diego- where there are at least 20 different shows involving combinations of touring bands and local bands only a few are:
1) Largely unknown. (less than half a million last fm plays.)
2) Have released a reviewed LP.
3) Touring within a month of the release of that LP.
I suppose it's a combination of novelty with an assurance that going to see this unknown band won't be a waste of time.
So basically I decided to sign on for this show after I read the following paragraph in an otherwise mediocre Pitchfork review for King Dude's new LP, Burning Daylight:
Burning Daylight's pitch-black narratives, set in charred landscapes where God and the Devil wage a final battle for supremacy, are superficially presented as nightmares, with Cowgill singing in a low, sinister croak pitched at a subterranean frequency somewhere between Johnny Cash at half the RPMs and a root beer belch. But like all apocalypse porn, Burning Daylight is really a fantasy about a world without complications, where it's still possible to tell what is truly good and what is not. For all the spooky, disembodied white noise and echoing haunted-house vocals he lays on top of his songs, Cowgill is at heart a 1950s nostalgist, a sort of undead Chris Isaak with a weakness of sock-hop balladry.
Sounds interesting enough to go.