This past Satuday night I endured the cigarette smoke and cell phone conversations of the Black Cat to see Broadcast.
The first opening band was Tralala which features four debutantes screaming over some basic chords. The second band, Gravenhurst, did the loud-quiet thing and the repetition-repetition thing. Neither moved me from my bar stool. But then it was time for Broadcast.
Broadcast has all the right ingredients- films running in the background, cool old synth gear, ear-splitting electric guitar, a lead singer who looks like Grace Slick circa 1966, and songs that lend themselves to extended grooves. I put them in the same league of English Psychedelic bands as My Bloody Valentine and Soft Machine.
At the end of the show, Trish Keenan asked the audience for something, I couldn't hear what. Someone tossed a cigarette onstage. "No, I'm sorry, I don't smoke tobacco." she said, handing the cigarette back to the crowd.
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