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Friends and colleagues have lamented that the Hosiery—the little warehouse/artspace north of Chinatown—is the ultimate hipster venue. In other words, go there and be prepared to feel uncool because you can’t grow a beard properly, ain’t rocking the right references, or kickin’ the right thrift-store gear.
Last Saturday’s show at the Hosiery proved the haters wrong.
The show—featuring L.A.’s No Age (pictured), Baltimore’s Ponytail and D.C.’s own Sentai—was not only fucking transcendent in a riffs-plus-fist pumping way, it proved that D.C. kids can rock out if adequately provoked.
Whether the kids in attendance were wearing the right clothes, I can’t be sure. But what I do know is that they actually came for the bands. The same can’t be said of Black Cat regulars every time out.
I had my doubts. When I first arrived around 10 p.m., the place was empty. Put it this way: if the room was given a case of beer, the room would have had trouble finishing it off. But soon enough, people started showing up and the room’s numbers reached respectability. I’m proud to say the numbers included four current and former CP staffers (we represent!).
And the crowd actually reacted to Ponytail’s mix of ’70s virtuosity, animal cooing, and an extensive knowledge of grrrl goofiness. Super-tiny frontwoman Molly Sigel bounded around the space clearly amped to just be there. The dudes in the audience did not hunch over and hug their torsos. No one did much talking. People kinda danced and rallied around Sigel’s infectious hardcore-meets-chimp dance moves.
No Age proved the bigger surprise. It’s best-of compilation-as-album debut, Weirdo Rippers, cuts and pastes stoner jams, hazy atmospherics, and quickie pop melodies not unlike Deerhoof. It’s not easy dance music. But when the Hosiery people found the grooves, they bounced and flung beer. (I got hit in the eye!) Not to sound like an old fart—which I am— but it was just cool to see an audience appreciate a band.
No Age noticed, too. During the last song, the guitarist rushed up to a kid in the front row and just dropped his Gibson over the kid’s shoulders. The kid didn’t flinch or try to give the guitar back. He just strummed the thing as hard as he could and let the distorted notes fly. After the song ended, No Age’s guitarist retrieved his Gibson. And then he gave the guy a hug, telling him: “I love you.”
Photo credit: Mike Abrams