Photos by Olivia Haas
Sundays are meant for scrambling to finish (and start) the homework you’ve left crumpled in your backpack, spilling coffee down your nicest shirt as your shaky hands pour a third cup, and, of course, dancing your ass off.
If you were at Paradise Sunday night, then you got to partake in that last bit. The night began on suspicious terms, as I found myself clinging to one of the behemoth poles that frequent visitors of Paradise grow to love and loathe, blocking the view of many, and supporting the very drunk. A six foot tall gray haired man occupied my precious pole with me, smiling down at me every now and then, before pointing a few heads in front of us to a girl and leaning down to say, “That’s my daughter! She’s 15.” I gave him an awkward thumbs up and scanned the room. I mean, Smallpools were cool, but I didn’t expect to see quite so many teenage girls present. Weird.
Waters kicked off the night, being from, looking, and sounding very California. Their guitarist sported a metallic choker of alien faces and John Lennon glasses, ripping psychedelic riffs to the imbalanced upbeat poppiness of the singer. An eclectic mix of chill yet dancy, Waters sounded like the ameteur cousin of Grouplove. They made me dance, though.
Soon after that, I realized why so many teenage girls were present. “You seen these guys before?” Dad standing next to me asked. After responding negatively, he added, “She [his daughter] saw them open for Panic! At The Disco a few months ago!” The screaming started as Magic Man took the stage, piercing through my earplugs. Ah, I remember those days.
They burst into their first song, no holds barred- a flurry of clean guitar and neon lights flashed before us. Channeling the high energy of pop and funnelling it into melodic indie, Magic Man got the whole place on their feet- yes, even the dad. Singer Alex Caplow couldn’t stop smiling, telling us how happy he was to be back home. Finishing up “Texas”, a single off their newest album, the lights faded and Caplow stepped to the edge of the stage. He opened his arms wide- much to the delight of the tweeny crowd- and proclaimed his love for Boston.
A heavily dynamic performer, Caplow was all over the stage, leaning out further than comfort would allow, which riled up the crowd. Their set was high octane, packed full of emotional songs. But what grabbed my attention was when they stripped down the show, quieting down the rowdy room for “Waves”. The crowd seemed to reciprocate exactly whatever feeling each song had- ranging from manic quasi-moshing to put-your-arm-across-my-shoulders-and-sway. Bands with heavy synth/other electronic instrument use can be a hit or miss when seeing them live, and Magic Man was definitely a hit. A homerun. Crafting the perfect balance between processed sound and live elements, it was like watching a true magic show taking place in front of you- complete with a dreamy frontman.
Their performance was so engaging and nearly seamless, I blinked and realized they were on their last song. “Paris”, a sturdy power anthem, sent the fangirls over the edge, thrusting homemade signs into the air proclaiming their love for Caplow. Lamenting a love left behind in Paris, the whole room swooned, yet didn’t miss a beat tapping their toes to the dainty keyboard melody. Disintegrating into their own dreamy sound, they drifted off the stage.
Smallpools came together slowly- most of the band was assembled, save for singer Sean Scanlon. A dramatic spotlight suddenly illuminated him standing atop the highest stack of amps, arms spread, as Vivaldi’s Four Seasons played. A grandiose entrance. After playing through “No Story Time”, I pondered how a band with only four songs released could hold a whole headlining set. What Smallpools provided answered that.
Pulling out a handful of new songs, Smallpools launched into a tune titled “Bruce Lee” before commenting on the fact that they had such a small catalog. “I know you’re all wondering how this band with so few songs is going to make it through the night,” Scanlon said. “Well we have a few new ones for you we hope you enjoy.”
Halfway into their set, the lights dropped out almost completely, leaving the purple LED lined drum head the only thing lighting up the stage. A familiar beat sounded, and just as I started to put together where I’d heard it before, he started singing a twisted, even more psychedelic (if that’s even possible) cover of College & Electric Youth’s “A Real Hero”. Starting off mellow and sweet, the cover picked up with the addition of drums, and eventually a nearly two minute long guitar solo. Radical.
They played on with a mix of new and old songs, until an inflatable killer whale appeared, tossed out into the crowd. As they gleefully tossed it around, Scanlon began explaining how their song “Killer Whales” earned its title. “We’d do Google searches of our band name to see what people were saying about us,” he said as the pool toy sailed past my face, smashing into the unaware head of a fellow dad a few spots away. My dad appeared bewildered, and his daughter amused. (No, not my dad, just the one closest in proximity to me.) “And we kept getting results for like…for Sea World, and how wrong and cruel it is to keep killer whales in small pools.” Cue audience laughter. Someone dropped the whale.
The song itself was catchy- a well constructed hit-worthy tune borrowing from the lyric-laden indie pop stylings popular with bands like Bleachers. The song was very radio friendly, and actually reminded me of Sheppard’s instant hit “Geronimo” with its echoing, call-and-response type chorus.
I narrowly avoided getting punched in the face as a man shorter than me (I’m 5’3″) thought it a good idea to keep the whale to himself, and the much taller man standing behind me took it upon himself to reach over and attempt to yank it back to reintegrate it into the now dancing crowd, and the whale hoarder lunged forward, fists at the ready. Dad saved me by stepping in between.
Naturally, Smallpools ended their set with their dreamy hit, “Dreaming”. People were flinging glowsticks onto the stage at this point, and it felt like I was at a very mild rave. It was a wild night.
