I went into the Jack Wilson & Co. set on Monday night with expectations defined and met: heartbreak and fistfights, simultaneous; "falling in love is like going insane", circa seeing them open for Elliott Brood last month at the Tractor. They're firmly lodged for me somewhere between indie rock and Americana, the Space Needle and a dusty front porch somewhere in the midwest. You know… Wurlitzers and well-worn guitars. It was the last night of their October residency at the Sunset, and they brought it. Brought. It.
I was unprepared, however, for the unabashed mouth-agape in disbelief that was (is) Pablo Trucker. After some friendly interaction over the espresso machine at Victrola with their percussionist, Andrew, and a quick spin around the MySpace page, I was all in for staying late to see the set.
But beyond that… I feel like I should have worn more layers, or prepared somehow otherwise, for what wound up transpiring. One guitar. One drumkit. Two voices, red spotlights, and enough ache to last all of us well into next year sometime. Beyond that, I don't even have any words for it, except go buy the album the minute it comes out, and go see them live next time you have the chance. Seriously. They're my new favorite everything.
(Photos: Victoria / Hot Avocados Photography)