Spindrift, the upsidedown, Leopold and His Fiction
March 10th at Bottom of the Hill

Sometimes the desire to see live music, unprompted, overtakes the need to do anything else, and such was the case on Tuesday night here in SF—despite the fact that the dust from Noise Pop is still settling, and I’m trying to rest up for the imminent bodily destruction of SXSW. I was in need of something loud and noisy at Bottom of the Hill, so I made the trek to check out a triple-stacked bill of unrefined rock ‘n’ roll. Leopold and His Fiction opened the night, and since I reviewed their record not too long ago, I was familiar with their brand of twangy blues, executed by a dynamic trio: A chick bass player who, for what she lacked in experience made up for in uninhibited style; a drummer who can simultaneously tap away on a dinky little keyboard that sits alongside his drum kit; and a feather-adorned cowboy-hated frontman whose yowling voice is a well-equipped vehicle through which to drive their raw, rootsy compositions. This is a group whose sound is akin to noisy, antiquated garage bands a la the White Stripes, and the smattering of people gathered were fairly boisterous and visibly supportive of this local band… not bad for a Tuesday night.

The next act was Portland’s upsidedown, a six-piece of seemingly disparate band members: A bouncy girl up front rockin’ the tambourine, with a singer whose throaty, goth-inflected vocals is an interesting variable in their psych rock-drenched sound, made complete by pulsating images cast behind the band in weird hues of color and light, altogether lending itself to their trippy onstage presence. While fairly derivative of the Black Angels, the upsidedown executed what they do quite well. The headliner of the night was Sprindrift, an ensemble Crawdaddy! is quite familiar with, whose swampy, spaghetti Western rock ‘n’ roll is loud and uniquely compelling. The Brian Jonestown affiliation certainly lent a dose of exposure to this band, but their mix of rock ‘n’ roll blues and pyschedelia has its own stamp on today’s music scene. This was one of those nights where sitting back and letting the music unfold before me was just what the doctor ordered. I left the hot venue to enter the cold night buzzed and happy. – Angela Zimmerman

Listen: Spindrift [at myspace.com]

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