Review: Animal Flag, I/O, Jesse Denaro, and Sulk Scouts at Cafe 939 (10/17)

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Who’s the least intimidating person in this room? Where’s the nearest corner? Okay, the ground’s a good seat. Please don’t look at me. I’m fine.

Such thoughts are all too familiar to me at The Red Room Café where survival of the fittest takes favor of Berklee College students who know every attendee and band member in the room. On Friday, I invaded the venue’s afterschool “club meeting” once again. However, despite the location’s typical you-can’t-sit-with-us vibes, my own social anxiety was fairly repaid with enjoyable audio. With the artistic potential that Animal Flag, Jessie Denaro, I/O and The Sulk Scouts showed, I resolved that all four deserved a better crowd and a better space.

The Sulk Scouts took the stage first, wearing an assortment of rounded sunglasses and an awkward confidence that fit the Bostonian four-piece like a glove. A quick technological malfunction with the a portable Keytar started their set on a comedic note, which was equally fixed by their confused “uhmms” and some fedora-wearing tech guru.

From there, the scouts launched into a set both beachy in flavor and riot-grrrl in disposition. Every immaturity in the minds of bobble-headed attendees was spoken to through a combination of twangy guitar and lyrics concerning gendered distinctions: boys & girls, girls & boys, cooties & sex.

“Every immaturity in the minds bobble-headed attendees was spoken to through a combination of twangy guitar and lyrics concerning gendered distinctions: boys & girls, girls & boys, cooties & sex.”

Nevertheless, when lead female vocalist Olivia Maria took the floor during a playful cover of “Like a Virgin,” her demand to “open up a fucking pit” was met with polite refusal. Hands down, Sulk Scouts deserved more feedback from the crowd, but perhaps that’s just my bias talking. I’ll over-appreciate any band that writes a song solely consisting of the lyrics “Boys are wimps.” I concur Scoutmaster. I concur.

In contrast, when local I/O took the stage, the crowd wasn’t necessarily as under-par as the venue. The group’s ambient rock resembled a modernized El Ten Eleven and probably would have been best appreciated in a larger room, with better sound equipment and sitting cross-legged. A symmetrical stage and sound setup of two drummers, two guitars and a bassist in the center laid the groundwork for a set of composed build-ups and high-pitched bass solos.

The fact that most of their songs sat in the seven and eight-minute range with no vocals showed the group’s complete focus on raw sound, a tradition that’s hard to find within today’s post-rock scene. Fortunately, a better appreciation for the group’s sound can be paid through a visit to the group’s bandcamp page. I advocate strongly for a straight through listen of the Saudade album. Make sure to do so with your eyes closed.

After another uncomfortable bystander period of listening to the Berklee crowd gossip about “just how bad Becky is at music theory,” Jesse Denaro swooped in with a powerhouse set of emotions that I eventually got used to. I hadn’t experienced a live singer/songwriter in a while, which is probably what led me to mistake his artistic ownership with arrogance.

The New York stater’s decision to start off his set with a pretentious “Who here likes rock music?” was easily forgiven once the guy started singing. Track after track off Denaro’s full-lengths All My Friends Are Dead and Dear, Love brought with it the sort of vocal control that just can’t be taught. Growl to falsetto, his pitch was perfect. If the venue were a classroom setting, Denaro was that kid whose runs simply couldn’t blend into the choir. Oh! And “based Becky” would still be the worst of us.

“Growl to falsetto, his pitch was perfect. If the venue were a classroom setting, Denaro was that kid whose runs simply couldn’t blend into the choir.”

Along the same lines as The Sulk Scouts, the singer/songwriter definitely deserved that the crowd meet him at least halfway. Denaro practically resorted to a combination of rhetoric and begging in order to rally the room into even whispering “and I will break my bones” to his final song. Regardless, he supplied enough energy for both parties, ending the set with some much-appreciated thrashing of both guitar chords and vocal cords.

“Hey we’re Animal Flag if anyone cares,” said Matt Politoski shortly after Denaro’s bones were verbally broken. Being the fourth and most anticipated group, Animal Flag held the burden of finishing off the afterschool social’s transformation into a real concert. Not so surprisingly, a patchwork of the Boston-based group’s mid-tempo, indie rock tracks, emotional confessions and jolly good dispositions did the trick.

Accessible tracks from their 2014 self-titled EP, such as “St. Cecelia’s,” “Solace,” and “Mercy” branded themselves as crowd favorites and also ignited somewhat of a three-man karaoke contest toward the front of the mob. Who knew the most lyrics? The middle-aged rocker wearing a “Jesus is cool” baseball cap? The flannel-covered twenty-something? Or the scrawny fan boy whose mom might not keep tabs on his Friday night plans? From my left-cornered point of view, I’d say it was a tie.

Following the trend of vocal quality, Politoski’s voice served every song well. By giving forth the perfect amount of “raspiness,” Animal Flag’s front man guided each song effectively while not forcing his emotions on any callous attendee. The light descants above ambient guitar were just as impressive as the momentous choruses below heavy chords. Despite the group’s stronghold on the alternative genre, Politoski presented a variety pack of vocal techniques that the collection of music snobs took well to.

Ending the night on a powerhouse note, Animal Flag closed their set with what could be considered “the mitochondria of covers”: Radiohead’s “You and Who’s Army?” The tune reciprocated some instant crowd recognition at its onset and, for a split second, I even felt myself to be a member of the ambiguous club present. As if following Radiohead’s exact instructions, Politoski and his crew dished out a gradual build into a hard-hitting section of dense noise and emotion, making for a commendable cover to kick us out the door with.

So, the answer is no. I didn’t walk out of The Red Room with any new friends, old friends, or Berklee-like qualities. But, my ears were positively surprised, and I had gotten my theoretical money’s worth.