Big Business
Pins of Light
Grayceon
June 27, 2013
Slim’s
San Francisco, Ca

Flashback Friday

…In Which Big Business, Pins of Light and Grayceon Load Us With Marvel

                The night’s expectations glistened in a laborious aftermath of, well, labor. Work: to the layperson. An eight hour journey of anticipatory toil promised to be punctuated with a night Out. Out and About as they say; and if you will. Enveloped in the arms of evening’s darkness and christened with the melodic reverie sung by three gangs of sirens, each member putting a different atrium of their heart in their own palm and offering it as a gift to us: the adjoining army of spectators.

Candice and I landed our craft just a block away from the aptly christened Bottom of the Hill and entered said bottom. A trilogy of musicians were in the full thrust of their hammer, so to speak. Warmed up and inducing complete enamor from their crowd, the opening act by the name of Grayceon played their epic ballads with the grace and precision of clock’s withinnards. The band consisted of two gents; one on guitar and one thrashing the skins of a drum kit, as well as one fair lass; sawing passionately at a cello of the electronic persuasion. They launched again and again into their powerful songs with a deep and admirably driven fury. Each song would take us all on a beautifully tumultuous journey alternating between the tribulations of slow and heavy choruses, the existence of whom seemed dependent on bridging the gaps between periods of intricately choreographed chaos. The cellist sung lead with deep bellows that put a musty hue on her lyrical enchantment. Grayceon left us all reeling from our journey through the aweing landscape of their set.

Candice and I stepped outside to gather our wits and await the next act, Pins of Light. The cold air bit into us with an unseasonable lack of pleasantries. Planet San Francisco can be a tricky bitch weather-wise: it is never recommended for its inhabitants to dress according to logical predictions of the season. Stepping outside for a coffin nail one might think they were on the far-side of Mars and trying to sun-bathe. This one time…never mind, back to the story: We began to see the beginnings of our next stanza of entertainment. A foursome of diabolical magnitude of whom we’ve had chance to write on numerous occasions. We snuffed cherries and made haste to within.

The musical quatro stood on stage adjusting their implements of force and before any of us could brace for departure, they launched into the magnum force of song. While such actual Pins of Light bit into each and every spectator without warning, as they are wont to do, we were joyfully taken off guard and reacted like a group of innocents being stampeded by giant bulls while awaiting a cavalry of mere horsemen. The two guitars coupled with the bassman’s howling baritone create a tragically beautiful serenade held aloft by the dynamic power and speed of their drummer. Candice and myself have quite literally leapt at any opportunity to see this band of four warriors with their fast and heavy diatribes. They mask while at the same time highlight the deities behind their wickedness. Each of them is a master at their craft, a touch of reality floating on a sea of myth.

After such Pins had been extinguished we awaited with anticipation for the evening’s primary stage-holders: Big Business. And as they took their places on the pedestal one could almost hear the breath of the crowd being held, awaiting this legendary threesome to ensure that not a single note of their craft should be missed. Big Business began their set and not a futuristic shilly of disappointment could be detected. It was just what we dwellers had wanted, precisely what we had congregated for. This band plays with a perfect authority while at the same time administering a kind of casual and humorous disposition not unlike that of the jolly warlords of Earthly yore. Their smiles are almost undetectable and definitely untrustworthy, their faces exuding a kind of silent sarcasm. But the casual dominance with which they play their instruments screams volumes in favor of their agenda: like gods, these three gents were clearly born to create. The worlds on which these creations rest are somehow reminiscent of both the Mountain of Olympus and the Trenches of the Mariana. The two ax men share the microphone, yielding their horrific chants in a symbiotic waltz. They could each easily employ their pipes to that of the opera, but at the fingers of metal, said pipes could move an elderly man to tears. Big Business’s drummer is like a maniacal hurricane. Candice and I saw him play in the recent past as part of a dual rhythm-supplement with The Melvins a while ago and although such a twosome was a sight to see, watching this man alone makes one wonder how that much sound-girth can possibly be produced by a solo warrior. It’s like watching the majesty of a meteor shower whilst UFOs joust amongst it with unicorns. He also employs a microphone of the hands-free variety, delving into the vocal synchronicity. They ended their set with a song that’s very tenacity seemed to harbor its own encore and we all exited the theatre bewildered and amazed.

The night had been given a new breath and it was young, though we remained spent, the Toll of Rock being hearty and weathering.  We meandered back to our home quadrant to rest in our pods and re-charge the batteries of …and Roll.

Tune in next week for another exciting chapter in Flashback Fridays as we explore more of the various nights of rocking throughout our littered past…

 

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