I’m Painting a Picture of a Western Aerial:
Summer’s Here Kick Ass Rock’n’Roll Extravaganza
I wouldn’t advocate sex, drugs, rock &roll, alcohol or lewd and vain behavior to anyone. So my medical advice is to see Western Aerial anytime you can and you’ll get all the above….in one dose. Its much more fun, easier on the pocketbook and there’s absolutely no cut.
No argument here that there are dozens of top notch bands hailing from PDX. Equally inarguable, is that Western Aerial is the defining and unparalleled factor for hard-rock in the region. Not an offhanded muttering or breathless whisper has been confirmed to the contrary thus far. This can only mean their super show this Saturday will be packed with music fiends from far and wide.
While the execs upstairs have been listening for the next Justin Beiber, snorting tic tacs and losing at Nintendo, Geoff Metts has been writing hit songs. And somehow, thru the familiarity of the riffage and percussion, this band attains something very unique among a plethora of saturated bands who flash in and out of the scene. Charisma, talent and pure desire to succeed.
Sometimes I wonder if the distraction of one-hit-wonders keeps our collective ears off the ball. This power trio’s been batting record home runs since the first day they arrived.
I distinctly remember the first WA show I attended. Earlier that night I pulled up their website. I had to loosen my collar listening to tracks like “Fifteen”, “Wait” and “Hot as Hell“. My usually cool and dark basement office began to glow, engulfed by a sweltering heat. A ravenous magnetism summoned an intense desire to bolt up, play air guitar, slam a beer and jump up and down wildly.
The music pounded, adrenaline surged. And somewhere between my sweaty thrashing and sheer decibel levels, heat-seeking fruit flies were suddenly everywhere, hovering and batting wildly above the speakers. The little fiends stuck to the walls and wallowed in my cup of crude liquor like pigs in a vat. I flapped my arms wildly, threw on my coat and left for the show or I’d surely be consumed like a rotten banana.
Finally down at the club, rejoicing at my narrow escape, all seemed normal until Geoff struck the first chord- turning a December night in a cavernous room into a tepid and swampous boiler room of sweat infused delerium.
And suddenly, there they were…again! It was hard to see in the darkness of the room, except for the flashes of stage lights and clicking cameras. This time they seemed to have grown much, much bigger. They screamed and yelled, donning leather jackets, tattoos and assorted jewelry. They were swilling beer again and hovering around the speakers. For a brief moment I thought the little bastards had followed me down. Then the thick swarm roared when Geoff said, “How many of you people want to rock and fucking roll?” A grand relief came over me that I was among my own kind.
That’s when I realized that no one can quite touch what they do. To see Western Aerial is like dipping a greedy middle finger for a taste of all the things we shouldn’t have, except you don’t feel guilty about it the next day.
Expect to be impressed from this ‘pull-all-stops-at-all-costs’ band . Pretty sure they will kick out the right songs from their substantial catalogue while pulling beastly gems from their upcoming release.
To top the epiphanic experience, highly rated Stripperland contenders, the Dragonflies and American Bastard will stomp this show down through the cement, echo throughout the Shanghai Tunnels and shoo the ghosts back into the Willamette.
Meanwhile, you’ll be safe and (very) warm above, batting wildly in the air… with the fruitflies.
Saturday, 9pm at Dante’s- 1 SW 3rd ave PDX
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