by Patrick Kendrick & r & & r & & lt;span class= & quot;dropcap & quot; & B & lt;/span & ooking shows Tuesday through Saturday is stressful, to say the least. And hard-working bands like Seaweed Jack are the reason I can keep doing it. I would love to make them our house band every weekend, if only I could talk them into it. They're energetic, bright and professional, but more than that, any band that shows up early and stays until the last set ends is a group that is clearly in it for the music. They're great musicians and amazing people in general.
Seaweed Jack's live set is innovative and manic. At some point during each show, it inevitably begins looking more like a wrestling match than a concert: musician vs. instrument, locked in mortal rock combat. Don't expect to see any of the band members in the same place for very long or even playing the same instrument. When Brian White lays down his guitar to pick up chains and when Anthony Stassi steps out from behind his drum kit and picks up his marching bass, don't expect your ass to stay in the same place either: You'll be swept away by the undercurrent of sound and crowd. Punks, hip-hop fans, indie and metal snobs of all ages fall victim to Seaweed Jack, a smile plastered on their faces during and after the show.
It's infectious, and it's starting to spread beyond the dance floor. Right now, the freeway skate park is swarming with pushers listening to The Captain, upscale bookstores have it on heavy rotation, and I personally use it in place of an energy drink. (Don't tell my Sparks distributor.) That says a lot.
I have no doubt in my mind Seaweed Jack will have the success they are striving for. They can use my stage anytime, and I strongly suggest you get your ass out of the chair you're sitting in and up front at any stage where they appear. Pay at the door, buy the album, dance, and support. Repeat as necessary to make Spokane a place where great bands like this thrive. If not for yourself, at least do it for the kids.
Week in and week out, Kendrick books innovative shows into Rock Coffee on First Avenue, which shares a building with the Big Easy.
Seaweed Jack's live set is innovative and manic. At some point during each show, it inevitably begins looking more like a wrestling match than a concert: musician vs. instrument, locked in mortal rock combat. Don't expect to see any of the band members in the same place for very long or even playing the same instrument. When Brian White lays down his guitar to pick up chains and when Anthony Stassi steps out from behind his drum kit and picks up his marching bass, don't expect your ass to stay in the same place either: You'll be swept away by the undercurrent of sound and crowd. Punks, hip-hop fans, indie and metal snobs of all ages fall victim to Seaweed Jack, a smile plastered on their faces during and after the show.
It's infectious, and it's starting to spread beyond the dance floor. Right now, the freeway skate park is swarming with pushers listening to The Captain, upscale bookstores have it on heavy rotation, and I personally use it in place of an energy drink. (Don't tell my Sparks distributor.) That says a lot.
I have no doubt in my mind Seaweed Jack will have the success they are striving for. They can use my stage anytime, and I strongly suggest you get your ass out of the chair you're sitting in and up front at any stage where they appear. Pay at the door, buy the album, dance, and support. Repeat as necessary to make Spokane a place where great bands like this thrive. If not for yourself, at least do it for the kids.
Week in and week out, Kendrick books innovative shows into Rock Coffee on First Avenue, which shares a building with the Big Easy.
