I guess if your last name wasn’t McCartney, it was kind of a crappy night to put on a show in New York. While the “12-12-12″ benefit for those in the region affected by Hurricane Sandy at the end of October went on at Madison Square Garden with a wide swath of “Where the fuck were you when Katrina hit New Orleans?”-type celebrities (also Kanye West), across the river in Brooklyn a somewhat humbler extravaganza was held at The Grand Victory, benefiting perhaps local audiologists through its sheer assault of volume. Gotta build a customer base.

First time I was at The Grand Victory was Oct. 25 to catch Elder rolling through town with Reign of Zaius and Thinning the Herd (review here), and last night only confirmed the impression I had of the venue: I like it. Its long layout, nice bar and good beer selection continued to remind me of places these kinds of shows used to be held in Manhattan, and though I wasn’t drinking, I was glad to pay the cover to get in and at least give some support where I could.

There weren’t a lot of people there apart from the bands and some dude who decided that out of the whole room he was going to bump into my camera bag no fewer than four times — presumably he has some stance against people with bags at shows, and really, why should a day pass when you can’t needlessly be an asshole to someone else entirely without provocation? — and I was late in my arrival, entirely missing both opening acts, Vultus and Furnace Head. Felt kind of like a prick walking in just as NJ-based upstarts The Badeda Ladies were getting ready to go on, but I’d worked late and was lucky to get out when I did. It was a Wednesday night. I did my best.

The Badeda Ladies were not unknown to me. I’d first heard a couple demo tracks from the young Jersey troupe when they were a bass/drum instrumental duo. This was, however, my first time seeing them live. It was also their first New York show, having haunted Jersey house gigs and basement whathaveyous along with the few stalwart venues like the Stanhope House with a commitment to fostering new and growing bands, and the addition of guitarist Chris Eustaquio alongside drummer Ryan Smith and bassist Jonny Cohn went a long way to adding to the already established dynamic in the rhythm section.

Most of what they played — the first three songs of the set, anyhow — came from an upcoming split they’ll reportedly have out next year, and that wasn’t the extent of the new material. There was another song that Cohn referred to as “Bilbo Baggins” from the stage — Eustaquio‘s laughter seemed to indicate it wasn’t actually the title — and a few off their prior Liv Di demo as well, including the step-down-to-nothing finale of “Vulture,” punctuated by a loud snare hit from Smith, who had also provided the only vocals in a song earlier. They were pretty obviously still getting their feet wet in terms of playing out, and the style was post-metal so banter was minimal, but they had their own way of engaging the room nonetheless.

What they had working greatly in their favor was the inimitable intensity of the young. Smith‘s vocals on whichever song it was were harsh post-hardcore barks, throaty but interesting and enough to speak to some potential there should that be something they want to pursue down the line, and their instrumental material, ranging from Pelican-type pastorals to post-Isis constructions, showed burgeoning personality. As they move forward with the Furnace Head split, it should be interesting to hear how Eustaquio becomes further integrated into the band and also to see how their presence develops playing these songs live more often.

Last up for the night on my abbreviated version of the bill were artsy Brooklyn natives Bezoar, for whom slow metal is just one weapon in their apparently growing arsenal. The trio killed when I caught them at Public Assembly in October (review here), so I was stoked on the prospect of another encounter, and despite a room-consuming stench of body odor up front — not saying it was one of them, just saying it was there — they didn’t disappoint. Guitarist Tyler Villard, bassist/vocalist Sara Villard and insano-drummer Justin Sherrell (also of local merchants Wizardry) played a set that seemed to be mostly new material presumably from the album they’ll set to recording in the spring, showing off the expanse of their creative range while deftly pulling off abrupt changes in timing and tempo.

Shredding one measure and plodding the next, Bezoar are a band that challenges you to keep up as you listen. Their 2012 debut full-length, Wyt Deth, made its triumph in complexities both melodic and dissonant, Sara topping either a torrent of extreme metal or open-spaced doom excess with a consistent, drawn-out, echoing clean vocal that in another context might prove almost comforting. Their live show is more intense and their newer songs likewise. Tyler, decked out in a Gorgoroth shirt, seemed gleeful as he squibbled out that influence, and with his feet at a constant double-kick pulse, Justin met his extremity with no small measure of his own.

Sherrell is nothing if not a harsh lesson in the difference a great drummer can make in a band. He has a difficult task in tying Bezoar‘s material together and making their on-a-dime transitions sound natural if not flowing (they’re not always supposed to flow), but he does that while still managing to hold down the rhythm with Sara‘s bass and sounding creative in the process. Once again, the high point of the set came in a new song I don’t know the name of — it may have been the one Sara introduced as being yet untitled but about Jim Jones – as all three members of the band locked into a massive and immediately recognizable grooving riff. It was one of those, “Oh yeah, this” moments, but still just one of several reasons they gave throughout their time on stage to anticipate their next LP.

They’re also still establishing what they can do on stage, but already since the first time I saw Bezoar opening for Witch Mountain in June (review here), they’ve come far in their presentation and last night, even playing to those from the other bands who’d actually stuck around, me and a handful of others, they showed potential to excite both conceptually — that is, in terms of appreciation for what they do — and in the sheer appeal of watching someone kick ass at a gig. I don’t know whether or not I’ll see them again before they go in to record, but even if not, the impression they’ve left at this point is of an act on the cusp of really coming into their own. I look forward to hearing what they can do with these songs in a studio setting.

When I left, the radio had it that the grand shenanigans up at MSG were going on and had raised an estimated $50 million. Way more than I’ve done for anyone lately, but still a drop in the proverbial bucket compared to the $64 billion tab the president requested for storm relief and rebuilding. Nice to make famous people feel good about themselves, I suppose. Me, I’ll take the music every time and if that means leaving the rest of the world to its hoedown-for-a-cause, that seems a small price to pay.

Extra pics after the jump. Thanks for reading.

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Another shitty day in another shitty week had me in full-on Fuck Everything Mode. Riffy redemption? Well, it wouldn’t be the first time, but it wasn’t going to be easy going, and the traffic en route to The Grand Victory in Brooklyn to catch Boston’s Elder, with NYC natives Thinning the Herd, Reign of Zaius and Pants Exploder wasn’t helping. You ever yell at someone in your car with the windows up? I do it. All. The. Time. I honestly don’t know how I’ve made it this long.

So obviously I was drinking, right? I mean what’s better than the existential boner pill alcohol provides? What’s that? Depressant? Fuck that, let’s rock and roll.

I was (born too) late getting there, and so Pants Exploder – who immediately won moniker of the night — were already on. It was my first time at The Grand Victory, which is right across Grand St. (fancy that) from the Trash Bar, but I could tell right away when I walked in that I liked the place. Small, longer than it was wide, the bar was on the left side walking in, loaded with decent micro taps — I had a Brooklyn Somethingorother to start and switched after one to Kelso’s Pilsner, which I found wanted for crispness but went down smoothly nonetheless — and the small stage was in the back of the room. It was unrepentantly a rock and roll bar, but dark in the back and intimate enough that even if there wasn’t a show, I’d drink there. Maybe that’s not saying much these days.

Upon hearing that there was a band called Pants Exploder on the bill, I knew I wanted to see them. I mean, some names just dare the act to live up to them. It’s like naming your band We Will Blow Your Fucking Mind, right? You wanna be like, “Okay, so go ahead, make my pants explode, I brought an extra pair and they’re in the car so I’m ready to go.” They gave it their best shot. A noisy trio, there were elements on hand of High on Fire thrash offset by Torche-type melodies, and they showed they could rage when they wanted to, and they were metal-tight and punk-energetic, which is what you want on a hoppy Thursday night. Good fun. One more band to make me regret living in the suburbs.

There wasn’t much of a changeover, but I had another couple beers and before long, Reign of Zaius started up. It was my second time seeing the Brooklyn newcomers — the first was at Public Assembly in August with The Midnight Ghost Train (review here) — and I don’t know whether it was the beverages, the sound at The Grand Victory or just my already vastly-improved mood, but I got way more of a sense of where they were coming from this time around. Their sound has its classic ’70s elements in the riffs, but with charismatic vocalist David “Viking” Damiecki up front, they seemed way more in line with a post-grunge heavy ’90s rock this time out. One of their songs started out so much like “Wynona’s Big Brown Beaver” that I thought they were doing a Primus cover. They weren’t, but they put that riff to good use anyway.

Elsewhere, Kyuss flourished as an influence, but there was a garage-type feel to their sound as well, guitarist Brady keeping a subdued presence while drummer Brian and bassist Davis added groovy push to the varying tempos. They’re pretty straightforward, and still feeling out where they want to be, but they seemed to have a much better idea last night than even two months ago, so I take that as an encouraging sign. It’ll be interesting to hear where they go sound-wise next time they hit the studio, and ditto that for Thinning the Herd, who followed and once again found guitarist/vocalist Gavin Spielman surrounded by a different band.

Admittedly, it’s been a while since I’ve seen them, but even since last year’s Oceans Rise (review here), Spielman has revamped the three-piece, bringing in mustachioed bassist Wes Edmonds and drummer Rick Cimato to underscore his should-be-heard riffs and solos and bluesy vocal delivery. I dug the band before — I’m pretty sure they’ve had a different bassist every time I’ve run into them, but none of them have been bad — but the latest incarnation seemed to be the most professional-minded. I don’t know what their plans are, if they’re looking to tour or whatever, but they were apparently recording with Steve Albini in August, so they’ve got something in the works.

They closed out by covering Fu Manchu‘s “Hell on Wheels” like it was no big deal, and that was an awesome surprise, since I don’t generally think of them as being aligned to that kind of sunshiny fuzz — their sound is dirtier, rougher around the edges — but they pulled it off well, and even in the back of the room, I was singing along. With just Elder to go, the night had already proven solid. All three of bands who’d played were going for something different under the umbrella of capital-’h’ Heavy, and the varying senses of identity on stage made it an interesting show as well as just being good sets. Right about when I got to thinking about how many different ways there are to spin your red sun blues, Elder got on stage and moiderlized the joint.

Elder were on their way south to this weekend’s inaugural Autumn Screams Doom fest at the Sidebar in Baltimore, and well, I was really glad they made a stop in town. This was my second time being fortunate enough to see them without a piano falling on my head or some such other hindrance (the first was at SHoD in Sept.), and the trio just flat out destroyed. It was the kind of good that makes you stand back and go, “Holy fuck this is good,” backing it up with all kinds of ridiculous hyperbole about how they’re the best band you’ve seen since this one time 17 years ago when you saw someone else who were really killer. Point is, they’re something special to watch on a stage.

It should say something to that effect that when we did that informal Top 10 Stoner Rock Albums poll last month, their last full-length, Dead Roots Stirring, was right on the cusp of making the list – Brant Bjork and High on Fire aren’t bad company, if you have to tie with somebody. They started their set with the title-track from that record, and played material off the Spires Burn/Release 12″ as well (streaming here), guitarist/vocalist Nick DiSalvo, bassist Jack Donovan and drummer Matt Couto missing no steps in the songs and seeming to outmatch even Pants Exploder‘s volume level. Donovan had his mullet in a ponytail — I guess you can’t unleash a beast like that every single night, lest the back of your neck overheat — but they made the most nonetheless of the small stage and proved it was no fluke when after last time I said they’re some of the best American heavy psych I’ve ever seen. If you’re in Baltimore tonight, count yourself lucky.

I’d lost the cap to one of my lenses, and by the time I got back to my humble river valley, I was back to being impotently furious at everything, but it was probably good to get out of my own head for a couple minutes, you know, like a real human being might. Nonetheless, I stomped my feet like a spoiled child taking out the garbage and debated further beerings, but eventually crashed out, gritting my teeth in my sleep to the point of waking up with a sore jaw this morning. Went well with my half-hungover headache.

Music still sounds good.

Extra pics after the jump.

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