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The Cogburns, The Lids, The Subsonics at The Earl
Love Scene, Michelle Malone, Trailer Bride at Echo Lounge
March 2004

Despite my life of sin, I couldn't get into Hell on Saturday night. Hell was sold out and they couldn't fit anyone else in, at least at the Smith's Olde Bar version of Hell - Lucifer's Lounge with various local bands and burlesque and such. I got there around 10:30, all done up in black and red and ready to hail Satan, only to be turned away by the doorman. I was sorry to have missed the show, but not sorry to have missed the sold out conditions inside.

So I hopped in the car and sped across town to Echo Lounge where Love Scene was on stage, cranked up a bit too loud. The small crowd huddled in the back like wallflowers at an 8th grade dance. The band had some technical problem but once it was resolved they seemed to get the volume under control (that or I was deafened to the point where it was tolerable) and continued on with their modern rock sound, stuff that sounds familiar to anyone who's listened to commercial radio lately. Not bad, but I skipped much of the set so I could save what little hearing I have left, and what I did see I didn't find that memorable.

Michelle Malone came on next, immediately fired up with the attitude of Johnny Cash shooting a bird, looking like Robert Plant, sounding like Bonnie Rait, and stripped down like Willie Nelson saying to his record label, "No, this isn't a demo, it's me, a guitar and drums and that's it, take it or leave it." She seriously kicked ass with just an acoustic guitar and simple drums. Her recent CD does not do the live show justice.

Pardon me while I complain about humans.

Humans suck. The crowd at Echo Lounge Saturday contained a large portion of women who prefer women there to see Michelle Malone. I don't care who Michelle or anyone else prefers to sleep with, but I don't understand why that is of any bearing on why you should (or should not) support their art. Any minority group is in danger of the same bigotry they often fight against when they chose to "support one of our own." That's bullshit. If it's good, support it. If it's not, don't. Just because someone is of a certain gender, race, ethnicity, religion, whatever doesn't mean they're worth your support or derision. So I don't mind a room full of lesbians watching a lesbian perform - what I mind is the half-empty room lacking straight people. Or the fact that the room then emptied out because the next performer may or may not be gay.

Interlude over.

Trailer Bride wrapped up the night with their haunted, dreamy stuff full of catchy hooks and southern gothic lyrics. Melissa's voice is so thin it sounds as if it's coming from the death bed of someone deep in the Appalachian Mountains, adding to the dark quality of the sound.

At one point Melissa was using a wa-wa pedal along with a slide on an acoustic guitar making for an extra twangy, bent sound.

I picked up their CD and decided to drop it off at the car before I headed on to find more entertainment, only to find it was 2:20 AM and soon the sidewalks would be rolled up for the night. Goddamn Atlanta city council!!

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