Grand Lake, Casper and the Cookies, Aquaserge @ The Rickshaw 4/29/10

Who still wants to write about a show that happened a month ago? This guy.

I’d heard locals Grand Lake were popular around these parts, and so I was surprised when there wasn’t more than 15 people at the Rickshaw Stop on that distant memory of a Thursday evening. It was a real shame, because they put on an amazing show opening for Casper and the Cookies and Aquasurge. Grand Lake’s performance was a crazy trip through an array of emotions, twirling the small audience from happy up-beat rock to anxious, swelling spaces of lyrical honesty.

Equally comfortable doling out dark, pulsing beats and minimalist bass lines (with long stretches of anticipation between excellent vocals) or exploding with sweet, hopeful alt-rock, Grand Lake is a wild ride. The entire act was very well put together; energetic throughout, with an ultimately optimistic vibe and enthusiastic drumming that would have excited a larger audience into bouncy dancing. Grand Lake really stole the show for me, and I wholeheartedly recommend them.

Casper and the Cookies came up next featuring Jason NeSmith (formerly of Of Montreal) sporting a mustard yellow jacket that matched the mustard yellow bass guitar that kept switching hands. Casper’s talented 3-singer harmonies and relentless pop-rock dance-beat drumming actually did get some people moving by the very end of their set, a testament to the hyperactive fun pouring from their stage. Continuing the high-energy trend set by Grand Lake, Casper and the Cookies were impressive and downright jolly.

Last we had Aquaserge, who were interesting but a little bland. They were trying pretty hard to trip the audience out, with five yelping vocalists, sharp, dissonant keys, and driving drums under inflating guitar narratives. Their music was trying to put me ill-at-ease, with occasionally flat singing and repetitive, swelling noise, coming at any given time from the bassist, the drummer, or the keyboards. They succeeded in creating an interesting sound-scape, but failed at being particularly compelling for me. When I’m given an ocean of sound, I tend to fall asleep on my inner-tube, no matter how deep and mysterious the water is.

Here’s to a more regular schedule — I’m almost positive I have three and a half readers, and I’m sure they were worried about me. I’m touched, honestly.

 

Kyle Wheat