Nightclub review |
Punkish, folkish and hyper-literate, Two Gallants might be the quintessential Seattle band. Thursday night the duo of Adam Stephens (guitar, vocals) and Tyson Vogel (drums) looked like they could've ducked into the Tractor Tavern while barhopping along Ballard Avenue; their greasy, fashionless fashion mirrored the venue's dimly-lit, unstylish style. Everything about their hourlong set catered to the crowd, and in return, the crowd granted raucous approval, the sort of shameless release reserved for prodigal hometown bands. The fact that Two Gallants are from San Francisco is a minor detail.
There was as much of the Northwest as the Bay Area in their wire-taut performance. You could've called out "Steady Rollin'," a song about a drunken crime of passion, as being inspired by the myth-building narratives of Grateful Dead lyricist Robert Hunter (Bay Area) or the everyday debasement of author Raymond Carver (Northwest). Flannel-clad urban country yarns like "Las Cruces Jail" sat alongside the Cave Singers (Northwest) but thrashed with the loose, sweaty abandon and intricate interplay of guitar-and-drums math rockers Hella (Bay Area). The sum of these parts is something timeless.
It's also something you can sing along to at the top of your drunken lungs. Forget Colin Meloy and the Decemberists — Stephens is the best storytelling songwriter alive. The band's opening number, "Long Summer Day," was a reworking of an early 20th-century work song that details the sorrows of servitude. It also includes the n-word. When sung by Moses Platt, a black man who recorded a version a hundred some years ago, it's deeply personal. When sung by Stephens, a 20-something white kid who refuses to substitute language for comfort, it's an indictment turned anthem, more uneasy and unsettling because of its context.
Since they first started gigging in front of the 16th Street BART station in San Francisco's Mission District in 2002, Two Gallants have inspired dramatic reactions from listeners. This sold-out show was no different: Here's a couple swaying and making out; here are three sloppy drunk dudes, arm in arm in arm, moshing through the packed room; here's a young guy desperately clutching his head with both hands, overwhelmed by the gut-punch grandeur of the music; here's the rest of the audience singing along, song after song.
The rest of this review should be given to "Waves of Grain," last night's encore. It's the most scathing and articulate protest song written since the turn of the millennium. Unfortunately, at 10-plus minutes long, the lyrics don't fit in this space. Hear the song — and pay attention, for Pete's sake — at www.twogallants.com/songs/wavesofgrain.html. And go see Two Gallants next time they're in Seattle.
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