A trio of first-rate psych rock bands graced the High Noon Saloon last Friday, including local band Dolores, who opened for Australian outfits Doctopus and Pond.
An affable quartet of 20-somethings, Dolores brought a bright sheen to the proceedings in contrast to the more rough-and-tumble aesthetic of Doctopus and the sonic assault of Pond. Crisp, filigreed guitar lines curved alongside bass lines (plucked from a sporting violin bass, no less, the sort Paul McCartney played), stellar keys and powerful drums. Pop was on the menu and Dolores was dishing up lots of it, with songs off their EP Nectar Fields.
The crowd, as a whole, was appreciative, gathering around the stage to nod heads and dance a bit. Some people even came down from the balcony, midway through, to get in on it. For a relatively new band, Dolores struck a good chord with the High Noon crowd.
On the flipside, Perth-based outfit Doctopus brought a bout of heavy psych-punk with a little grit thrown in too. Lead singer Stephen Bellair (who sported a black V guitar) vacillated between rock ‘n’ roll frontman and informal MC, spouting off information and profanities to the crowd. “It’s our first fucking time in Madison,” he cried to a cheering audience, before launching into a song about, in his words, “shitty housemates.”
Australia was a recurring point of pride for Bellair, who exultantly hyped up Pond and sang songs about Patty Mills (an Australian NBA player for the San Antonio Spurs).
Beer was also a recurring point of pride; Bellair worked through three or four bottles during the set, at one point shaking one and then popping the fizzing geyser straight into his mouth. Goofy, scruffy, unable to keep giving fucks (“The pottymouth is strong tonight,” he commented, just before dropping a few more f-bombs) and clearly enjoying the energy of the crowd, which was mounting with each successive song, Doctopus certainly riled people up.
But, after winding through the crisp charm of Dolores and Doctopus’ tintinabulating assault, this reviewer was unprepared for what Pond had to offer. “Monolithic” might give the wrong impression, but their sound was nothing if not whole. Drums, keyboard, bass and guitar coalesced into one undulating whip, which repeatedly pummeled the audience. Between old favorite and new songs from the forthcoming Man, It Feels Like Space Again, Pond quickly established themselves as the most exhilarating band of the evening.
This energy rubbed off on the crowd; ten minutes into Pond’s set, people were crowdsurfing, and the crowd was a roiling mass dappling with waving hands, like coins of light on the surface of the ocean. There was a screen projecting three colors at a time, shaking like television static, and people were very excited to immerse themselves in the quaking lights.
It was a legitimate and wonderful surprise to find three great acts concentrated on one spot for one evening. Oh man, oh man.
