Last night I went out to Brooklyn to check Penguin Prison’s set at Glassland Gallery. It was my second time at the W-Burg venue, and the basement loft had a more laid back, homey atmosphere being a quarter full on a rainy Sunday night. (The last time I was there I was literally throwing stiff arms just to take a leak). The vibe fit well as I got comfortable on a red leather sofa, with a perfect view of the stage, on the venue’s lofted second floor. Stretching out, I took a sip of my $4 tallboy Rolling Rock, curiously eyed the stack of paper Furby masks to my left (to be explained later), and watched opening act Elite Gymnastics take the stage. The internet-phenom duo setup with a MIDI controller, a laptop, and a mic, and started dropping some pretty decent beats with some pretty unintelligible lyrics that had some pretty terrible sense of pitch and melody. The emo-electro just kind of stumbled along. Stumble being the operative word as the lead singer was absolutely tanked. The miscues and other mistakes just made me feel as if I was well… on a couch, in a basement, with a Rolling Rock tallboy in my hand, watching some friends fuck around... I had never heard of Elite Gymnastics, but my more hip friend’s disappointed reaction told of the familiar tragic story of internet sensation turned live bust. During one (of the many) pauses in the set, the band commented on the size of the room, calling themselves “Just a bedroom band.” Guys, you might want take a year off before you graduate from bedroom computer and move into the basement.
Second up was Gobble Gobble. These are the whippersnappers responsible for the aforementioned Furby masks, and the same whippersnappers who know how to have some fucking fun on stage, and all around the venue. Still on the leather couch, discussing the pros and cons of hipsters using the internet and Nietzche, my friend and I were startled by some actual live music. We turned to the stage: a dude with a blonde fro dressed in a fairy costume was playing a toy piano. But where were the drums coming from? We ran downstairs to find that in front of the stage the band had setup two drum sets and a bunch of other crazy shit all lit up in different colors. And by band, I mean three half-naked dudes wearing hockey helmets and one fairy jumping and crawling across the venue. By drum set, I mean selection of pots, pans and random percussion pieces. The result of this mayhem? Ecstatic fun. Behind some dope bass sounds provided by the fairy-suited DJ/lead singer guy, the assortment of drummers/hype men went crazy on the percussion and the crowd. The sound was hardcore punk meets trancey electro. Fairy DJ summed it up best, hyping the crowd by telling them to “Pretend you’re at a rave in Detroit, and I just played Sandstrorm.” Gobble Gobble’s brand of comedy, hard bass, and party rave antics made for a crazy fun show.
All warmed up, I was ready for headliner Penguin Prison. Having heard various remixes and singles by the group, I wasn’t really sure what to expect. PP is a quartet featuring Penguin Prison as lead singer/guitarist, accompanied by a keyboardist, a bassist, and a drummer. As the group got on stage, there was a different feeling in the air. While the other two bands were defined by the worst and best connotations of amateur, Penguin Prison seemed to be on a level above. They looked like a real band, and they sounded like a real band. They had that star-like magnetism to them, and an interesting funk to their sound. It was hard to place, and I’m not sure if they really even have it down yet, but to me it was like Paul Simon and Vampire Weekend decided to meet each other at the disco. Penguin Prison sang like a story-teller, but the music was telling you to dance. His chops on the guitar were also surprisingly impressive. For every ounce of Gobble Gobble’s fun wackiness, PP carried equal weight in cool. While the band might also benefit by loosening some strings and jamming a little more to the sound, the outing was an impressive demonstration of professionalism that got a lot deeper than any of the recordings I’d ever heard. To get all that in the intimacy of your own basement turned dope music venue is pretty special.
Penguin Prison:
"Animal Animal"
Gobble Gobble:
"Eat Sun, Son"
