Three Imaginary Girls

Seattle's Indie-Pop Press – Music Reviews, Film Reviews, and Big Fun

A rock ‘n roll dream night. I packed up the Capitol Hill kids for a road trip to Ballard to see one of those "scream with glee when you read the concert calendar in the Sunset Tavern women’s restroom" shows. Upon our arrival, we were greeted with a parking space no more than 10 feet from the front door of the Tavern (remind me to tell you my friend’s theory that the cars parked in this part of town are actually cemented there and never move). We pay the doorguy, get our cards checked and staring back at us is the last available booth! Our party of four quickly grabbed it and nominated who would get the first round.

Ah, this was going to be a fine evening indeed.

In keeping with the season, the Sunset Tavern was Halloween’d out. Candy dishes (nummy caramels and chocolates) filled to the rim and spooky photography art lined the walls. At our fateful booth we had the "Punk for Blood" piece. In keeping with the tone of the evening, the "Punk" vampire (costumed in the "Punk" aspect of his wardrobe rather than the "for Blood" part) in the framed photo became 3D and approached our table and introduced himself. Rather than catching too much of the two opening bands, incidents such as this filled our time between Sunset Tavern entry and Tullycraft showtime.

When their time came, the boys took the modest stage area and kicked it off with "Wild Bikini" — probably the most quintessential Beat Surf Fun track. Over the course of the set I was reminded of the number of releases they have out there besides my beloved Beat Surf Fun with (what felt like) every 3rd song being the "Chris is breaking strings again" song that fills the space when virtuoso Chris rocked out a twee bit much and needed to restring his instrument.

By the third time this happened, lead singer Sean stepped in, admitting that he predicted this would happen, and threw Halloween candy to eager audience members. Of course, no candy necessary; the boys’ witty banter between songs, the cute boy-next-door lyrics, and smart infectious melodies (when all strings were intact) made it impossible for anyone to leave with less than a state of glee. Twee. Whatever.

I even left the show that night with a couple of grand, fairly uninteresting, but possibly effective in describing-their-sound proclamations. 1) They are the band that Weezer wants to be. 2) They should have had t-shirts for sale at the show. I want to sport a Tullycraft t-shirt at my next indie rock event (see t-shirt study in archives). Seriously.