|Magic Ian of Snacks|
The bill was loaded with local talent, but none stood out more than Snacks. The group was well-lubricated before their set and after a brief conversation with vocalist Magic Ian I couldn't help but wonder what the hell I was about to see. Was this about to be some fantastic debauchery fueled rock or was the group going to implode before this sweaty, punchy crowd? Guitarist Oliver Langrall halted my inner monologue with a flurry of distortion and a plodding riff that sent the band into motion and Magic Ian crashing into the crowd. The audience collapsed into a massive mosh pit with the singer leading the charge.
The songs were mostly drunk punk tunes in the vein of the Dead Kennedys and the Stooges, but manic violin shredding courtesy of Electric Ian (not to be confused with the Magic one) gave Snacks an added dimension of slap-happiness. The rhythm section was made up of the singer's Close Hits band-mates, with Dan Rico slugging the bass and Evan Burrows on drums. Every song played out like a race to the next- the flow only interrupted by the occasional diatribe from Magic Ian. The crowd ate up Snacks' confrontational demeanor, slamming into Rico and Langrall throughout the set with little worry at the possibility of being beheaded by a flailing instrument. By set's end the singer was crumbled to a fetal position, dotted with confetti and pants-less, howling into the mic over violin shrieks and tumbling percussion. I came away with a sense of disbelief, not at the chaos that is the band's live show, but at how tight they stay musically through it all. The songs are catchy- both deceptively melodic and adrenaline pumping. It's kitschy and pretentious to drop the "punk is dead" line, and just plain fucking stupid after you catch a Snacks show.
Check out more show reviews:
Close Hits at Weeds
Bullied by Strings at SubT
Eavesdropping on Paul McCartney at Wrigley Field
Blonde Redhead at Bottom Lounge
Jolie Holland at Lincoln Hall