A magic bullet is often described as an instant solution or cure for what ails you. As I found out last week, San Francisco’s Magic Bullets are just that.
Thursday, for even the most optimistic person, was a bad day. I woke up late for work, literally on the wrong side of the bed (I have the bump on my head to prove it), and tried to quickly make myself look human before I ran out the door. As I got ready to mount my bike and get on my way, I looked down and realized I had stepped in a fresh doggie present. Work presented me with an alarmingly full inbox, a coffee stain on a white blouse, bad news from a friend and another alarmingly full inbox upon leaving. Needless to say, as I pushed myself up Divisadero towards the Independent, I felt defeated. I walked in, ordered a shot of whiskey turned towards the stage and all of a sudden couldn’t help smiling.
The Magic Bullets look so painlessly cool you immediately want to be them, or at the very least around them in hopes some will rub off. Most importantly they all seem to be extremely content on stage. In 2009’s Holiday Issue of SOMA, guitarist Corey Cunningham says, “We have such a good time together that the music almost seems secondary.” And you can tell. Their enthusiasm radiates through their performance and it’s hard not to catch some.
Don’t get me wrong, there’s isn’t pop music so sugary it makes your teeth hurt. There is substance to their whimsical tunes laced with an underlying darkness. One would be hard pressed not to make a Smith’s reference here, however they have taken Moz’s signature angst and replaced it with something much more hopeful. feels much like finally seeing the light after being stuck in dark times. “You’ll make fine mistakes, you’ll make mistakes fine,” singer Phillip Benson declares. Lives For Romance The Magic Bullets have seemingly discovered a way to let us know everything will turn out ok. Some people say there is no such thing as a quick fix, however now I beg to differ.
-Alexandra Scioli