High frequencies aside, the playing was both prime and characteristic of Seahaven’s West-coast style. It was also supported by an almost perfectly in-tune chorus of eclectic attendees, which begged the question “Who should my eardrums be hanging out with right now?” In the coastal songwriter’s defense though, his mic was up too high for comfort. In less contrived terms: I wasn’t a huge fan.ĭespite my immense appreciation for the Los Angeles five-piece’s newest album Reverie Lagoon: Music for Escapism Only, I never quite got over the harsh, forced way that Kyle Soto’s voice came across. Truth be told though, if I’m up-keeping this parallel between the show and my time as a choker-wearing emo, this set was definitely the distraught duration where I sat in a corner and whined over my broken skateboard. “She also shredded harder on bass than my mom does on used coupon books. Trust me, that’s a pinnacle.”Īfter Creepoid, Seahaven was welcomed to the stage by a sufficient crowd of fan-girls, which wasn’t shocking given their half-baked-but-sort-of-suave stage presence. She also shredded harder on bass than my mom does on used coupon books. And I guess “accessibly punk,” refers to the amount of opportunities Creepoid gave me and my powder blue collared shirt to “fit in.”Įven the group’s more intense tracks, like “Blurry Slumber,” had strong underlying melody for the more straight-laced folks present, and Anna Troxell couldn’t have been more adorable at segwaying from how cold Bostonian weather is to the fact that sweatshirts were available at the merch table. Tracks off of last spring’s full-lengths Wet and CREEPOID accurately showcased the fruits of the group’s most recent labor as well as their accessibly punk style. From their easily followed songs to their extremely conversational demeanor, Creepoid was the type of nice-but-badass club that I longed to be a part of. The four-piece from Philadelphia opened the show and, in my opinion, should have closed it too. With that said, the night had a similarly up-and-down fluctuation.Īnd I guess I’ll start off by identifying the peak: Creepoid. Despite the abolition of my fake nose ring persona long ago, song after song of canned angst brought me back to the emotional roller coaster that I rode in circles around my freshman and sophomore years of high school. Emo, post-grunge, dirt rock, or whatever crass way you specifically describe the genre, the touring trio of Balance and Composure, Seahaven, and Creepoid brought it to the Paradise Thursday night as one of their final stops on a North American tour.
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