At first, I thought Joseph D'Agostino might be crying. The Cymbals Eat Guitars frontman is recently famous for his profuse sweating, but during the New Jersey band's second song, the first drop of water running down his cheek seemed to drip sorrowfully from the corner of his eye. By the end of the next number, though, it became clear that it wasn't so much misery he exuded as it was sheer force of will – perspiration from concentration and leaving it all on the stage. Nothing to grieve about there.
 Happily, as the sweat accumulated throughout the set, so did the music's intensity. The four members of Cymbals Eat Guitars don't look like much, and I don't mean that derogatorily. They're young, slight-to-medium-sized guys, and D'Agostino, in particular, just comes off like someone's neighbor that mows their lawn; he's got a baby face and gawky limbs, and in a tour t-shirt and black slacks, he just seems kind of...benign. But his appearance, as well as the others', belies the dormant ferocity just beneath. D'Agostino (left) perspires because he is singing and screaming, because his fingers must traverse every string and fret on his guitar, because his feet are performing an awkward but intricate dance over the myriad pedals and switches at his toes. (He frequently seemed near losing his balance as his pointed shoe reached for this switch or that just at the right time – he even tuned a new guitar silently during a challenging vocal riff without missing a beat.) Every band member, in fact, left nothing to the imagination, not merely recreating the majority of their 2009 debut Why There Are Mountains (as well as a couple of new songs), but hurtling their individual parts at us, all riffage and rock-god-homage noodling. One moment it was polished '90s piano alt-pop and moving bass, the next guitar feedback and a wall of sound and D'Agostino's strained voice, neck veins popping, melodies whipping lightning fast through a now half-capacity audience. "Indiana," for example, was as different from "Some Trees (Merrit Moon)" than as if they'd been by different bands, one shiny, the other angrily cathartic. All this followed a stellar set from Brooklyn's Bear In Heaven, every member of which hails originally from Georgia or Alabama; the four's family and friends, not to mention recent musical accolades, ostensibly accounted for the show's sellout. The trio (the band was mysteriously down one member) delivered a collection of songs from standout 2009 Hometapes release Beast Rest Forth Mouth, one that characteristically meshed scary synth with barreling, soaring, new-wave-tinged pop. Keyboardist/vocalist Jon Philpot and guitarist/bassist Adam Wills swapped instrumental duties in front of a drumming onslaught from Joe Stickney. The full room offered such constant, good-natured heckling and cheers, it was difficult not to smile straight through Bear In Heaven's set, even if the music was darker than seemed to warrant such silly grinning. After that, Cymbals Eat Guitars' equally emotional (if not at all sad) performance was just the ending the evening needed. Following intended finale "...And The Hazy Sea" and a new number as a sort-of encore, an affectionate audience begged one more song from the group and they finally obliged. If D'Agostino had been moved to tears by the outpouring of love, I wouldn't have blamed him.
Photo by Julia Reidy.
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