Liars sweat it out at the Bottleneck

With humidity as thick and sticky as a Gulf oil plume hanging in the air, and a heat index still in the nineties after the sun had set, what better night to cram into a poorly ventilated bar with a few hundred sweaty dance-rock aficionados for a show by Liars? Well, to be honest, any other night would probably have been better. But heat stroke and gushing armpits be damned, Liars was still worth a trip out into the scorching hellscape.

I’ve always thought of the Bottleneck in layout and atmosphere as a more spacious CBGB, rest its hole in wall soul, even down to the delightfully musty odor (which was enhanced that night due to nature’s Dutch oven). Fitting, then, that a band who made a name for themselves in the New York post-punk scene alongside Interpol and the Yeah Yeah Yeahs would be playing in Lawrence’s own OMFUG.