It's fun to be in the audience. That's something you sort of know when you go to a show, right? I mean, you pay money to be there, so clearly it's a thing. Sometimes, you really do have fun and you're glad you went. Sometimes, you're having so much fun, the band gets jealous. So some of them go down too, in the audience for a bit, having fun down there instead of doing their job on the stage. That's how you know it's fun to be in the audience.
When you hear the name "The Digital Haircut Tour", I think you know you're in for some bands that aren't there to take themselves overly seriously. It's not any of the bands' names. It's not the name of any of their albums. Their haircuts are fine, but I don't think they're digital. It's just what it's called, okay? It's at the Southgate House, a wonderful venue in the Cincinnati area built inside a converted church. It's intimate but still enough space for the great turnout of people who came to have fun in the audience. Their haircuts were fine too. Bear the Moon was on first, a local band here to open up tonight's tenuously named festivities.
Bear the Moon
Bear the Moon describes themselves as "sunset indie rock" and it makes a surprising amount of sense. There's a motion in the smoothness of their sound. You're in a Corsica and it's some time past seven o'clock and the view out the window isn't that interesting but you're not looking anyway, because you're thinking about everything that got you here, and all the people you miss and haven't thought about enough. It's not time to turn on the headlights yet. (There's no auto headlight switch in your Corsica, you're lucky to have windows that roll down.) It's time to think about people and use the last of the sunset to put distance on the road and feel something, and this music is here to help you with that. But you're not in your Corsica. You sold it a long time ago, thank God. You're in the Southgate House, watching sunset indie rock. It's like that.
Alex's vocals are somewhere in the world of "power ballad but mellow". He uses them well, unafraid to let his voice get a little lost riding on the top of the swelling guitars, keys, and drums provided by the others. He'll bring them back when you need them most, hanging on to his lyrics that bring wistfulness and feeling in waves.
They take the time to let us know: it's Justin's last show with the band. ("Nooooo!" someone in the audience cries dramatically. Alex chuckles.) But Justin makes sure we know: it's on good terms, he loves these guys, and he's had an incredible experience playing with this band. They get back to the music. This happens in the scenes of small, eager indie rock bands. "THIS STICKER WILL LAST LONGER THAN YOUR BAND" predicts the sardonic decal affixed to the soundboard in the room. Bear the Moon isn't going anywhere.
Alex, Lawrence, and Travis are continuing on, but they take the time to thank and appreciate someone who has been a defining part of it and wish him luck. They put themselves into the remaining songs, letting us feel it with them, these last few moments with Justin. We're invited to reminisce, even if we just met him. And their music is perfect for that.
They make sure we know there's a merch table, but Alex tells us we should "buy Basic Printer and Spirit of the Bear's stuff. They're touring, and that's how they make money. So let's give them money, okay?" Simple, practical. Maybe wouldn't get good marks in a slick advertising course. But Alex isn't advertising. He's appreciating. You start to understand why so many of their songs feel like they do. They wind down their last song, and it's time to change over the stage. They were certainly the best lunar-and-Corsica themed band of the evening.
Basic Printer
You can almost feel the Monty Python foot coming down on the stage, squishing what had been a living room feeling of indie rock to be replaced with a duo stacked with a messy array of synths, sequencers, and rhythm pads. And now, for something completely different.
Basic Printer is Jesse and Mick, and they like to wear loudly patterned fashions that probably took a non-basic printer to make. They also like to make synthesizers, drum machines, and an occasional guitar weave into an almost playful synthpop vibe that you like because it manages to recognize itself. It calls back some classic video game boops but also feels like indie rock from a different factory. It's probably not a Corsica. It's more like a Vespa, but you've taken your Vespa on the highway, and maybe you shouldn't have, but you're here now, aren't you? Try and keep up so no one honks at you.
They honk at us, Basic Printer does. Their back and forth of various synths blare sometimes, squeal, then ride pleasing drones for a bit. Their voices are almost interchanging: they trade lines and harmonies between them as easily as they trade notes and glitches. The whole package is a danceable swirl of unique sounds born out of Jesse's dreams in a bathrobe as he toiled in his Nashville basement. It paid off: the sound is in motion around us, and it's fun motion.
The audience appreciates it, some dancing enthusiastically, fully into the fun. Most are swaying a little, nodding and the like, and they're having fun too. But a lot of these are indie rock fans. They have fun from the sounds, they don't always show it in the outward gyrations. There was never much room to headbang in a Corsica. They like it, no matter how they're dancing.
It's fun down in the audience. I get a few shots of them being different kinds of fun. Mick thinks they're fun too. He runs off the stage and dances with them. He tests out some rolls and such. They mostly go well. He does stumble at one point, but that's also fun.
He dances in and out of them, back in time to pick his part up. Well, actually, he missed a part. It's fine, because Jesse has two hands, so he just reaches over and covers for him. Mick finds this funny. We also. They thank us for being here. This is their first time playing Cincinnati, and they're having a great time. It really is a good audience. They're talkative. The crowd says some things ranging from kind to funny to Jesse and Mick. Jesse and Mick say kind and funny things back. It's a good time.
They warn at one point they want to try a song they hadn't played live yet. The crowd affirms they would like that. Jesse disclaims it: "if we ^%#! it up…" The response from a cheerful audience member is immediate: "^%#! it up!" They play the song. It's intricate and appreciable. These two are silly, but they genuinely understand the sound they're making with this disarray of synthesizers and almost haphazard vocal melodies. They're good at it. Jesse decides at the end of that song, "That was… pretty good. Like, probably an 80% on Guitar Hero. Clears the level." "85%!" the same enthusiastic man in the crowd declares. It's hard to say what the right score was; we hadn't heard the song before and there were no guitars in that one. They finish the set; they were easily the best consumer electronics themed band of the night. Spirit of the Bear is coming next to close us out.
Spirit of the Bear
Spirit of the Bear has a satisfyingly loose sound, like the band is listening to itself and keeping in a groove that was decided because it was what it should feel like. It's a kind of pop built on indie rock roots, but I don't have a vehicle analogy for this one, I guess. It was gorgeous, though. The lyrics and styles ran a gamut of themes that felt intentional and introspective. They rely on harmonies that are part of the music, like their own instruments. There's a lot of mics on this stage, actually.
James brings the sole guitar to the mix. This is a rhythm and keys band with guitar in it, not the other way around. He has a vocal range that lets him float in and out of a bouncing between simple up and down notes while throwing in an occasional rocket up to his upper register. It feels very soul music inspired in the best way. Danny backs him up well on the keys, and Ethan (who plays some other keys) contributes also. Mike on bass and Jamie on the drums create the rhythm section, their work lending a deep, complex feel to the sound overall. There always seems to be something extra going on when you listen and look a little closer.
A tambourine is available. So is dancing. Also, hugging. Danny and Ethan go wrap arms on either side of James at one point to sing with him. "That looked fun. I'm sad I missed out on that," Jamie quietly bemoans after the song. "It was fun," Danny affirms. "We just thought of that. That was not planned. That's called improvisation. It's good showmanship," he assures us. We're willing to agree. Ethan jets out to the audience a few times like Mick did, tambourine in tow. The audience absorbs him; he's in there somewhere, shaking his tambourine and dancing. He makes it back up to the stage.
They have lights and a projector too: they bring their own. Colors and shapes of their choosing attend their songs to deliver a decided vibe that feels like a discotheque from an era that never existed but was cool. Their songs and visuals tell you they've spent time refining what they want, and the delivery is compelling and full of layered craft. Ugh, I just thought of a great vehicle analogy for that, but it's too late now.
James lets us know at one point that he beat blood cancer. There's cheering and happiness from that, just as felt and joyous as the dancing they inspired in the crowd. His creativity and connection to his music makes more sense now. He poured something into it. It cost him something; life cost him something. But he's all smiles about this. He wants us to celebrate with him. We do. They have a commemorative shirt for it. The designer of the shirt is in the audience, so James gives her appreciation. He thanks Basic Printer and Bear the Moon. They close out their set with the same enjoyable intricacy we can now tell is their hallmark. Easily the best supernaturally-themed band of the evening.
These kinds of shows, there's little separation between performer and audience. The bands watch each other in between prepping for or extracting equipment from their set. They cheer for each other. They look at each other's shirts and laugh about stuff. They talk to anyone who wants to talk about something. They sell some records and the like. There were some other photographers there. We give each other space and take photos and enjoy it. One is just a friend of the band; she used to tour with them. Now it's just a friend with a lens showing her kind of love, being in the audience a little bit and out of it when she wants.
Yeah, it's fun to be in the audience, and the bands chatting with the audience an hour plus after the show tells us it's fun to be with the audience even if the show isn't happening at the time. If you didn't know that when you paid money to be part of the audience, this show taught you: it's fun to be in the audience. Especially when bands who love what they're doing support each other and want to be in the audience as much as you do.
