Notes From the Pit: Woods and Real Estate

Last night’s show was loud(ish). There were only a couple of drunk D-bags that got kicked out; everyone else behaved like kings. (That is, white, Midwestern, American Apparel plastic-too-huge-for-my-face glasses in full effect kings.)

The night started with Ad Astra Arkestra. They remind me of Hearts of Darkness (you know, only good), although I couldn’t find these guys on a bill anywhere. Cloud Nothings, hailing from Cleveland, Ohio, were next. I made up a story about them while I listened to their garage punk. (I think that two of them were wrestlers in high school; one is fancy; and another one has a fierce World of Warcraft addiction.)

Real Estate seemed to be having a stressful night: the kind of stress only four dudes traveling from New Jersey to Texas by way of Lawrence, Kansas could feel. They sounded terrific, but only played for about 10 minutes. They were late setting up and got chastised by the sound guy that they were “wasting time.” 

​Woods played last. Do you know how hard it is to photograph a band that has two guitar players standing up, a drummer drumming on drums and a horizontal bass guitar he has gingerly placed on his toms, and the lead singer thrashing on the floor of the stage, vibrating over some homemade tape recording/DJ thingy — all the while screaming into the earpiece of a…headphone? I do. It’s pretty hard. Woods has a sound all their own. Love it or hate it, it’s happening. Personally, I love it: Refreshing spring sounds.