Stomp And Stammer - Wavves @ The EARL 10/4/09

Wavves @ The EARL 10/4/09

Written by Julia Reidy

There's a fine line between damaging for the sake of shock value – for effect – and just plain terrible. A band can affront its audience, like so many live musicians do, to involve them, to let out some aggression that's pivotal to the understanding of its music. A band can evoke disgust as a deliberate emotion from listeners. I get it. All that's fine, understandable and frequently enjoyable. (Unless it's AIDS Wolf that's doing it. I hate AIDS Wolf.)

But just on the other side of that line is a truly awful live performance, and sadly, that's what Wavves produced Sunday at The EARL. It was spectacularly bad. I couldn't tell you almost anything they played through the excruciating, incessant feedback that seemed to be actually drilling holes into the audience's innocent eardrums. I do know that I barely recognized a lot of the material from sophomore release Wavvves (three Vs versus the debut's two), out earlier this year, and that I was really pissed because I'd been excited to hear these songs. Sunday, I didn't hear them so much as wince through them. (And yeah, I did try earplugs. No dice. The muddy mix was bad – and the performers lackluster – with or without the murdering of my hearing's high range.)

So then the real issue is what a waste it was that Wavves sucked so hard. The tragedy, for me, was twofold:

First, I have a lot of respect for Nathan Williams (despite his internet infamy re: the band's breakdown at the Primavera Festival, the bar fight he may or may not have gotten into with Jared Swilley of the Black Lips in New York, and the subsequent shit-talking on both sides). I listened to Wavvves like crazy, a record he made all by himself, enamored with its fuzzy guitars, charming distortion, driving rhythms and warped, yellowing pop vocal hooks. The album was a blissful marrying of rust and shine, intention and nonchalance, vintage mustiness and new car smell. It was ugly, winning, gorgeous and aggressive, all wrapped into a delicious sonic burrito you'd need to sharpen your teeth to consume. If I could've done anything to enjoy the live show, I certainly would have. I wanted to!

And second, none other than Zach Hill of Hella was Williams' drummer for this show. To me, Hill is basically the best drummer in the world right now. I was lucky enough to catch him last year when he toured solo. As a drummer. Unaccompanied except for a backing track to which he'd timed his performance. It was one of the most impressive displays of sheer talent I've ever seen, fascinating absolutely the whole time even without anyone else on stage. Hill does things with one hand (or foot!) that some of the best drummers can't do with their whole bodies. So you can imagine my dismay when Hill was reduced to incongruously backing this deafening and content-less show of what I can only imagine was some fatal mixture of testosterone, arrogance and ignorance. Or maybe Williams was afraid there would be a fight. Or the sound engineering was off. Or some equipment was malfunctioning. Maybe it wasn't the band's fault; I don't know who's to blame, but I have my suspicions. (And, to be fair, there were a few people toward the front that seemed to be enjoying themselves, jerking around to the – dubiously named – music.) Whatever the case, the only gift Wavves left its crowd with was bad case of tinnitus to match the nasty taste in our mouths.

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