JEFF the Brotherhood
Monday, June 25
Nashville duo JEFF the Brotherhood brought their mammoth-sounding brand of robotic bummer blues to Radio Radio on Monday night, and traded the venue's retro chic vibes for the dusty spontaneity of a basement get together.
The band's formula was simple; begin with droning feedback, let the smoke machines gush, insert a sludge riff that's a hybrid of Sabbath and Jack White, vocalize universally mundane (but by no means stupid) life troubles. Solo, jam, repeat to infinity.
But that's not to say the band, comprised of actual brothers Jake and Jamin Orrall (guitar and vocals, drums respectively), bored the crowd with their cyclical rock. Throughout the duration of their 14-song set, a steady pulse of headbanging permeated the mostly-male audience, who also indulged in some friendly moshing during the evening's uptempo moments such as "Mellow Out," a subtle pop ditty that's the closest thing to a love song the two played all night.
However, uptempo and subtle were in short supply for much of the evening as the band stuck with what the majority of their songs are, methodical, deliberate, dry. It was as if a Brontosaurus was driving a tank with a Kyuss sticker plastered on its bumper. Songs like "Hey Friend," and "You Got the Look" marched their way to completion, and like a heavy-metal bushwhacker, mowed down everything in their path.
And while the band certainly met expectations, they never exceeded them. Rather than peak, the boys were content to let good enough be enough.
If only the same were true for Hand Creme, the second of two opening bands. A riot gurl trio, and lone male drummer from Montreal, the band's knack for bratty, unmelodic gang vocals mixed with unintelligible reverb did not age well as their nine-song set faded from charmingly discombobulated to outright tedious. The band seemed lost throughout half their set as if they were improvising.
The Cocaine Wolves provided a bit more structure, and tempo compared to the other two acts, a punk-metal foursome from Muncie.