Live DC: VHS or Beta / Tigercity / US Royalty @ RNR Hotel

April 15, 2008 by Aaron  Send to a Friend

all photos: Dakota Fine

I’ll admit it. Shorts II kicked my ass. That party had no business being held on a Thursday night. The mood was so delectably deceptive I slipped into a Friday evening mindset. Culling my courage from a quickly fashioned ex-H2O receptacle containing Woodford Reserve bourbon and a few shots of Jamison, the rising sun found me curled on Mr. Fine’s fine leather couch at 7:30 Friday AM, having passed out a few hours earlier. This was surely to be a trying Friday.

Fast-forward to 8pm. Once again, a power nap has resurrected my will. I’ve survived the day. My body craves food. My heart, auditory companions. So I settle on chicken nachos and the Rock and Roll Hotel.

Walk in at 9:30 on the dot. Spot the young lads of U.S. Royalty. Any major dude will tell you that these gents claim to be men of leisure, but when they take the stage, whether the venue be RnR Hotel or singing karaoke at the Banana Café, it’s nothin’ but business time. The business of rockin’. And they do it well.

Embracing a love for all good things pop ‘n roll, Royalty puts on a heck of a show. Working with catchy guitar lines that possess the familiarity of classics while maintaining a modern finesse, one could imagine their songs covered by anyone from Bad Company to The Killers. Thornley the younger’s guitar lines reveal an appreciation for early ’80s new wave melody, and when combined with drummer Luke Adams’ right-on-the-money beat-making and Jacob Michael doing one sick bass-player dance, the rhythm section keeps the band and crowd driving to downright hop-able grooves. And, shit, John if you don’t remind me of a young Bruce Springsteen. Soon, someone will be paying these guys royalties for some time.

Tigercity, from Brooklyn, came floating in on some cool breeze that must have been blowing for the last 40 some-odd years. Probably the same one that followed a warm summer night train to Temple University outside of Philadelphia back in the late 60’s and whispered the words “rock and soul” to two young monsieurs in their sleep. When the morning came, Hall & Oates broke up with their respective girlfriends (or, more likely, Daryl dumped his three lady callers and John just slept in), and united to blue-eye the shit out soul for the next 20 years.

As Luke said to me when they kicked into their first song, “this is baby making music.” With deep v-neck t-shirts and deeply sensual electro-dance numbers, Tigercity provided a set that was both refreshing and invigorating in its whole-hearted commitment to making one undulate their pelvic-region in the smoothest manner possible. This was not music that made you want to convulse or shake your rump. No no no. Taking cues from the silky production of Avalon-era Roxy Music and the pop-song prowess of contemporaries like Zoot Woman and Phoenix, I was transported to a place where men in beards and white-linen suits dip their hips along with olive-skinned women clad only in sarongs. I think that place was on the deck of a yacht sailing straight into a sinking sun. Oh yeah, and everyone ate peeled grapes.

But seriously, Tigercity stole the show. They even provided us with a new song, named right on stage, “Washing the Mountain.” Phallic symbolism aside, my body was drained, but my soul/libido was replenished. And after a few damn good Belgian fries dipped in garlic aioli, I was ready for some gum and VHS or Beta.

Maybe my spirit had had all it could take. I just couldn’t get into VHS or Beta. I mean, I got what they were about, and I think it’s tough to transition from making disco-dance music to sincere and not-too-cheesy pop songs for a wider audience. It’s tough to write the check. Tough to mail it in. But the layered wall of synth and bass speckled with predictable guitar strums felt old. The 16th notes on the high hat and the thumping kick drum felt uninspired. It felt about 4-5 years too old. Maybe I’m just 4-5 years too old to appreciate it.

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