|
|
Rockin Dune Tunes White Crest Beach, Wellfleet Jiblantos, Stigmatics, Dogmatics, Atlantic Thrills, Mr. Airplane Man July 15, 2017
So, twice a summer, HIII keeps the tradition. He brings a handful of great bands to the Wellfleet seashore for a flip flop and bonfire shindig. The stage overlooks the dune cliff that runs down to the Atlantic. People bask and swim. Occasionally, a seal pops a glistening black head above the waterline to show it’s pup the humans. Sorry about the phone shots, busted camera. Jiblantos hit the water first. The sax and violin thing calls their garage bona fides into question but they have a summer charm on an eclectic bunch of covers and that Carol Gyurina can tear up a violin solo when the spirit moves her. Poor man’s Chandler Travis Philharmonic? - certainly on the one original, guitarist Brian Nolan’s sing along, Random Acts of Mindless Fun. “Show your nipples to a priest”, indeed.
The Stigmatics don’t waste anytime establishing that they’ve been exiled from Babylon after a metallic k.o. at the Rat. The first tunes, Walking with the Devil and All Used Up set the pace. Pete MacCormack’s rhythm guitar and vocals chomped like Jaws on Quint. Bob Roos’ back up vocals popped up like yellow barrels and the test on his guitar wires was set for shark.
The Dogmatics were doing an opening set at the Beachcomber that night so they decide to do their sound check at White Crest. Sun, beach, tequila and tonic and the Dogmatics. They rip through a quick set of covers: the Blaster’s Marie, Marie; the location soundtrack Pipeline; That’s Alright and, for good measure, and, in case you missed Exit 15, Sister Serena. Here’s to summer surprises.
Atlantic Thrills had the right name for this one. They feed a sub-mix to the mains so they can layer on the reverb psychedelics. They take the surf underwater but it doesn’t hurt their groove or slow their progress. The sunset throws a purple glow across the beach. The heat, the beat and rehydration fluids kick in. Folks start to let their hips and shoulders go. Atlantic Thrills are like sushi on the beach: raw, quickly consumed and addictive.
Mr. Airplane Man just released an new disk of their odds and
sods - their first new release in thirteen years and they’re doing gigs.
They play through the dark blue light as it turns black. HIII throws
up a red light so Margaret and Tara can see
each other. It deepens the fever dream vibe. Margaret’s thick
slide work and backwoods soprano become more intense as the set progresses.
For me the music hits a serious mid-set peak on two tunes that conjure up the intensity of the Doors’ The End scored for the final scene of Apocalypse Now. Margaret and Tara are shamans. They feed the red light’s fire. The drums are ritualistic. This isn’t a celebration of the harvest. Margaret kneels at the monitor and her guitar howls. The ceremony called and now the response is here, lysergic and mysterious, fierce and transcendent.
|
>
.JPG)
links | contact us