when I heard the name The Tuna Helpers, I couldn't help but giggle. It seemed even funnier that the band consists of three chicks who put on a puppet show during their set. But when I listened to their CD, I got a little worried. It was totally insane and sounded like that tinkling, cutesy music you hear on a carousel or at a circus—a bunch of xylophones and whacked-out sounds that you would never think you'd hear from rocker girls.
Their live show turned out to be even more bizarre than I imagined.
I saw a few people I knew at the Divebar on Friday night, a coworker from the Weekly and Poizen Ivy, the all-around local-band junkie who set up the show. Usually, parties don't get started until around 11, but when I got there at 9:30 the place—which isn't a dive at all—was pretty packed and the juice was flowin' hard and steady. Getting a drink took awhile, but I eventually got one, chatted with a few people and headed to my favorite spot at any bar, the stage.
The first band was The Bleachers. They had a nice sound but were pretty conventional. It was the second band that really surprised me ... most of the shows I've seen in Vegas have either been blues or punk stuff, but Anamorphosis was all ambient and experimental, with lots of effects, the kind of music that I used to hear all the time when I lived in Albuquerque, but not so much here. It was a treat for me, although, as with all noise bands, many people weren't sure what to make of them, so they just sat there, watching.
I was positive the crowd would loosen up during the third band, Looner, but I was wrong. I took it upon myself to do the dancing and tried my damnedest to persuade my friends to join me, but they flatly refused. I've never trusted anyone who doesn't dance, or at least stand up and sway a little bit at a show. It's unnatural.
Looner turned out to be a husband-and-wife duo: Angel divided his time between guitar and drum kit, while Zoë stuck to bass and captivating vocals. The music was startlingly tight, danceable and sounded more like four musicians than two (they sounded nothing like The White Stripes, if that thought crossed your mind). I met them after the show. They introduced me to their dog and cat, which were waiting in the car (the cat wasn't even in a carrier and she didn't book when they opened the door, she just stood there looking at us from the back seat; strange). Angel and Zoë were in the midst of moving from the West Coast to the East with all their belongings, playing gigs along the way. They were excellent people and I have high hopes for them. If I owned a record label I would scoop them up.
But back to the reason I went to the show in the first place: the chicks with puppets. I have never seen a show like that before. I mean, I've seen bands do weird things on stage, but never have I seen a group mash so many performance/artsy ideas into one set. The way the ladies were dressed—gothy clothes and thick, black eyeliner—I thought they'd sound like L7 or something, but no, they played their carousel music! The guitarist/lead singer sang like she was an opera star, high-pitched with lots of vibrato; the keyboard player signed some songs—yeah, as in American Sign Language. And the band added a cello player, which made it sound even creepier. But the most freaky-ass thing, by far: the puppets. The dolls looked like ones you might have played with when you were young but have since tucked away in the attic—you know, the dolls with stains on their little dresses and their hair ripped out or matted down. But the kicker was a pink bunny that would have been adorable except for the horrible, glowing red eyes.
No one was dancing to The Tuna Helpers, and I didn't blame them, it just wasn't music you could dance to, so I plopped down on the floor with a handful of others and watched in awe as the band continued its freak fest.
Some people like shows where all the bands sound the same. Not me, and that was the beauty of this show. Though the crowd never found the energy to dance, I overheard many people say they liked the bands and that they were having a great time, and I guess in the end that's all that matters.