Three Imaginary Girls

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

"Have you ever been on a soccer team with Atila the Hun? Please welcome to the stage 'Mr. Comets On Fire'!"

At first, I thought this was an unusual way to begin a set, but it totally went with the tone of this whole performance. I don't know what I was expecting, but it wasn't what I got. Comets On Fire started with a lot of heavy organ feedback and then busted into a Hendrix-style guitar frenzy with many high tremolos and arpeggios, all "meedly-meedly meedly-meedly-meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!" then broke down into a very "Foxy Lady" style strut. The vocals hit me on a very Mars Volta kind of level, except you know, not latin.

Comets on Fire are a four-piece; however, there seemed to be a fifth band member whose sole purpose was to jack around with an effects box. He sure was into it though. How do I get that job? No song seemed to truly begin or end; it was like they were perpetually in the middle of a song with all this heavy guitar madness, then some lyrics kicked in.

I don't know, I may have been too tired and hot at this point to really "get" what was going on here, musically. It's aggressive and definitely psychedelic, with acid trippy drumming and lots of high-pitched screamy vocals, but the whole thing kind of put me on edge. The crowd seemed to be feeling the same way, everyone looked like they were being blown away, but not in a good way, everyone seemed kind of rooted to where they stood, unable to move, unable to walk away. I was a little relieved when it ended…