hotsnakes / troubadour

October 10, 2004

They may seem like a ragtag bunch of old dudes, but christ, the Hot Snakes were brutal last Saturday night at the Troubadour, absolutely pounding the crowd for an hour with their relentlessly throbbing rock. With “Audit In Progress,” the Snakes are officially on their third record, but they are driven by legendary Jehu veterans Rick Froberg and John Reis. Rounding out the band are bassist Gar Wood and spankin’ new drummer Mario Rubalcabal. You can tell just by the hairstyles that this is a veteran band, with only Rubalcabal’s indie-afro recalling anything from this millenium while Froberg and Wood sport middle-management do’s and Reis rolls with a slick rockabilly style. It’s a wild bunch.

But who cares about the fashion report? From the first note of “Retrofit” on, it is nothing but a bonecrushing rhythm section and solid wall of guitar churn. Froberg’s more of a screamer than a singer, clawing away with a desperate edge as he tries not to drown in the noise. If people think too many bands are rocking the Pixies’ quiet verse/loud chorus, they might want to give the Snakes’ structure of loud intro/SCREAM/loud verse/louder chorus/SCREAM a shot. You could argue it gets a bit repetitive, but the effect is so visceral it is undeniable.

The song selection was a fair sampling of all three albums, without any particular focus on the newest “Audit in Progress.” The blasts of “10th Planet” and the vaguely Whoish “Past Lives” repped their “Automatic Midnight” the best, while “Suicide Invoice” contributed all my favorite Hot Snakes tunes, including “Unlisted,” “LAX” and the string bending groove of “I Hate The Kids.” I got no shout out before that song, by the way, but that’s OK, because I’m not nearly cool enough to use that title anyway. Oddly, the encore started with my favorite new song, “This Mystic Decade,” and ended with my absolute least favorite, “Think About Carbs,” a screamalong about diet and conditioning.

I’m generally all about melody and hooks, but every now and then you want someone that throws down. The Hot Snakes fucking throw down.

Posted in From Blown Speakers