Black Rebel Motorcycle Club
Stubb’s, Austin, Texas
November 2, 2016
It was a pleasant feeling to show up to Stubb’s, the Austin staple for BBQ that doubles as a double venue — both a small indoor stage and a large outdoor amphitheater. Even though I was late (due to unforeseen traffic on Mopac, which could easily lead to a rant about Austin’s always-snarled traffic in this music city turned overcrowded metropolis, but that is another rant), I was still able to catch the opening notes of the show that droned louder and louder into the open night sky. BRMC had taken the stage with “Beat the Devil’s Tattoo” while I was a block and a half away, but it was almost like the magnetic pull that would’ve drawn me in even if I hadn’t planned on attending this show.
The outdoor venue was packed. Several hundred people had stood through Deap Vally and Death From Above 1979 in the early evening. Mostly twenty- and thirty-somethings rocked and swayed to the low-end fuzz that filled the air. BRMC had come to take no prisoners and they got in a groove from the very beginning and didn’t let up for the whole 75-minute show.
The lighting was dark and minimal with mostly grey, red or blue lighting that reflected off the fog coming from the stage. This made for the coolest visual-matching-audio atmosphere, but was hell for photographing the first three songs. Sorry! The dim lighting kept me from noticing that the thundering and full drumming backbone of BRMC was provided by a girl — Leah Shapiro. She rocks hard and solid.
“Ain’t No Easy Way Out” started off with acoustic strumming that turned into an electric thumper as the pace picks up. Then guitarist and part-time vocalist Peter Hayes was moving around and singing into his harmonica headset/necklace/brace, which I don’t recall ever seeing before. He was too far away from his mic stand for it to be picking up his voice. I was intrigued.
The band sounded on and in the pocket. They rarely slowed down for any between-song banter beyond the swift, “How’s everybody doing?” and quick instrument changes. Speaking of, Hayes and Been traded off between bass and guitar during “Haunt,” which segued into the hypnotic rocker, “666 Conducer.”
The band paced its set well. They played tunes from each of its studio albums. I wondered if they were going to play their cover of Been’s father’s band (The Call), “Let the Day Begin.” They did not, but there were so many high points in this full set that nothing felt like it was missing.
By the time it came to “Red Eyes and Tears,” they had rocked for an hour, but it seemed like just a few minutes. The band’s sound stays consistent, fluctuating between the basic passion of rock with the dark gothic tones of Sonic Youth, Smashing Pumpkins but the energy of ’80s alt rock, deviating at times with the stripped-down rawness of its Howl album (“Ain’t No Easy Way” and “Shuffle Your Feet”). Been made a comment about how hot it was and mentioned making a bet with one of his bandmates about being able to wear his jacket through the entire set. “We’ve only got two songs left, so we’ll see how it goes.” This easy-going banter endeared his nonchalant demeanor to the appreciative crowd.
During the infectious “Spread Your Love” Been ditched his jacket and walked forward off the stage to the platform behind the barricade and laid into the audience, who rocked and waved their arms in unison with the band. They finished up the night with their parenthetical “punk song,” called “Whatever Happened to My Rock ‘n’ Roll.”
It was an energetic set. Both band and artist walked away satisfied and spent. I left feeling proud of the band, who obviously has a sizable following in spite of its moderate success. It’s nice to know that several hundred people in this city are keen to this band’s cool vibe and sound. They might be obscure to a point, but they sure aren’t a well-kept secret.
—Photos and Review by Doug Van Pelt
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