the feeling or notional wave of feeling upon seeing something which reminds you/or makes you feel a sense of pride for being from the state of Pennsylvania.
ex. The Districts, an indie rock foursome, are saving music and I feel so goddamn PA Proud right now.
It’s far too sparse a crowd for the caliber gracing The Social stage around 8:30pm on a Friday night.
The Spirit of the Beehive are bathed in harsh reds and blues. The light coming through the door points out the bald spots in the quaint Orlando venue.
The newly minted Solstice is shaming the patrons who would normally already be shnockered at this point in the evening. Apparently, there’s some unwritten rule wherein it’s more acceptable to be intoxicated under the cover of darkness. Drink on, vampires.
The Philadelphia foursome are moody, dissonant, grunge perfection. This is good, stoner shit. Those in attendance not on cloud 9 upon entering the show, have zipped up a moon suit with Beehive’s rainy day rock and haunting reverb, helping them take their first weightless steps on their freaky space trip.
The band is voiced by Charlotte’s low, distant groan and Zach Schwartz’s whispering, cutting candor. Both are also on bass and guitar, respectively. Their sound is anxious and equally bleak, becoming inflamed in an instant with distortion and white noise, especially on Pleasure Suck track, “time to scratch them all”.
The Spirit of the Beehive are the reason to never miss an opening band. Under what may look like miserable rubble, pokes out catchy, disturbing sing-a-long melodies.
Check out their new AND old, featuring the greatest album name of all time, YOU ARE ARRIVED (but you’ve been cheated).
Uproarious, tipsy yelps greet the four lads of The Districts from Litiz, PA. Their first Florida show is sounding like a romp so far.
“Look at that line; hipster, hipster, hipster,” one of my friends points out before entering the show. And by all accounts of the definition, (which, I think was defined by someone insecure of their own inner wishes), they were right.
The band itself, Rob(vocals/guitar), Pat(guitar), Connor(bass), and Braden(drums), are fitted up in tucked in t-shirts, socks meeting their high-water jeans, and “Dad” hats.
If this is how your Dad rocks, let’s talk.
Their sound sucks everything from the room immediately. The stench of familiarity is potent, whether you’ve heard them before or not. A gut recognition with each riff says they need this as much you do.
“Young Blood” drips like honey from Grote’s throat and each body is sticking and unsticking from the floor, from its neighbor, from the air in The Social.
Love is patient and wise, but it’s not always kind when you learn how it leaves.”
Sweat drips from the lead singer’s nose as he tunes his guitar; his Sesame Street shirt stained with sweat now.
The Districts are practiced, but not rehearsed. The boys formed the band while in high school and their sound still feels like it could play the cool underground party you snuck out to attend. A mix of getting away with something and fulfilling your destiny, or at least distracting yourself from remembering life’s everyday drollities.
I stride into the pit next to friends and close my eyes.
I hear blues and folk guitar. I feel the corroded drums in my spine.
I open my eyes and the crowd is swaying; sad and soothed.
“It’s only when I see you turn and go that I know I need your love to stay…“
They close the set with “Ordinary Day”, a triumphant cry for the people to sing back. There’s something innately freeing about shouting,
“I’ll let you down again!”
Even more cathartic, is the encore track “Long Distance” off their self-titled EP.
The Districts wake up, stretch, groan, and carry on. They point out life’s aches with jangly guitar and commiserate along side of us, as if to say, disappointment is the only given; fucking do it anyway.
We’re lucky to have the boys in such a small space. It feels selfish. It won’t be this way again. Bigger stages await them.
Anyone who calls this band hipster is an idiot. I bet you like your coffee with soy milk and your actresses blonde and busty, too.
What these guys do is special. They would do this even if no one was listening.
Florida is listening, come back soon.
The Districts w/ The Spirit of the Beehive Live Review by Sarah Schumaker
The Districts w/ The Spirit of the Beehive Photos by James Strassberger
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