Livewire

The Slip
Jim's Big Ego
Wilbert's
February 3

The Slip fell into the same trap most jam bands do. There were plenty of wincing and knowing nods. But whatever the band was up to, it didn't let the audience in on the secret. Playing that same impenetrable, soupy music, the Slip often held little regard for shape, paid only occasional attention to texture (when it did, it was usually a sign that the song was either on its way in or on its way out), and focused on steady streams of notes and a perpetual-motion drummer.

To its credit, the Slip showed an edgier, rougher sound in comparison to the one on its latest recording, From the Gecko. Barely discernible was the somnambulistic, Latin-tinged jam Muzak of the album. In place, a more furious, if still leveled-out sound. Shards of bebop and the occasional care the band members took to locate a melodic line gives them points.

Brad Barr's occasional guitar work made listening to the Slip worthwhile. Barr set aside the typically frenetic jam-band pacing and carved out some arrestingly beautiful, earthy melodic lines, most apparent on the "The Highlands." His sound at such times bordered almost on country, as if he's been listening to Bill Frisell's jazz-informed country albums. His focus on the melodic invention rather than the constant jam was refreshing and, on more than one occasion, breathtaking.

Unfortunately, while Barr was at his best, fellow musicians Mark Friedman on fretless electric bass and Andrew Barr on drums pummeled away with little of the delicacy their guitarist exhibited. This business, and not Barr's excursions, defined the Slip's sound.

The inflated head of Big Jim's Ego completed the Boston band doubleheader. The band combines simple pop rock with the heavy, heavy bass of Soul Coughing and the quasi stream-of-conscious, culture-criticizing drone of David Byrne during his days with the Talking Heads. The band touches on some of the song silliness and catchy melodies of They Might Be Giants without the genre-crossing exploits.

The band hinges on the singing and songwriting of Jim Infantino, the shaved-headed one. The man seems to be grooming himself as the voice of twilight Gen Xers; he affects an ironic posture and populates his songs with things beloved and familiar: chinos, mom and dad, retro-cool, TV, and espressos. More often than not, however, Jim's lyrics come across as pretentious, repetitive, and overly self-conscious, and his voice, with its limited range and cartoonish delivery, is off-putting, not ingratiating.

On Jim's big recordings, there's no escaping his voice/lyrics, but in concert, the sound balance favored the band, letting unpretentious pop songs--big bass, sunny drums, etc.--sing out on their own. Not bad at all.

The night straddled the fine line between accomplished pop and the kind of music your drunk friends make up on the spot for fun. Can be funny and entertaining, but wears thin.

--Aaron Steinberg

Anti-Flag
Counter Clockweyes
Signoffs
Phantasy Nite Club
February 5

Anti-Flag delivered a charged hour-plus set of East Coast political punk as a near-capacity crowd bodysurfed and basically ignored the "no moshing" sign posted on the door at the Phantasy Nite Club. Backstage, Anti-Flag lead vocalist/guitarist Justin Sane talked up his band's "new" unity vibe. But when the band launched into its opener, the insanity of the mosh pit tipped the scales slightly in favor of chaos. Anti-Flag powered through crowd faves like "Indie Sux" and the anthemic "Die for Your Government," as a phalanx of defiant fist-pumping guys shouted along at the front of the stage. Some even jumped on stage to add their own flavor. In the middle of "Indie Sux," Sane stopped and asked, "Does anybody want to tell a story?" One guy explained how his girlfriend cheated on him: "The worst part was this guy listened to Master P." Ouch.

Sane, drummer Pat Thetic, and bassist Jaimee Cock rolled through a blistering cover of the Clash's "White Riot" and original lockstep numbers like "Drink, Drank, Punk." Keeping with their anti-violence theme, Sane thanked the crowd for "taking care of each other" in the pit. Make no mistake, this was no love-in. Anti-Flag drove home the message of fighting the common enemy (choose: the wealthy, government, rock poseurs, etc.) with slashing guitar riffs played at maximum volume. With the Stars and Stripes draped upside down behind him, Sane pronounced, "I don't care if you believe in the system. I don't care if you want to burn the flag. It's important we all stick together."

Thankfully, the band held one of its less desirable qualities--its penchant for affecting pseudo-Brit accents--to a minimum. Sane also addressed the band's oft-criticized song titles. Before "Fuck Police Brutality," Sane said, "I know it's cliche, but until cops quit fucking with us, we're gonna keep writing songs like this!" Anti-Flag wrapped up with "Kill the Rich," which Sane described as a "misunderstood song about not dying for the rich man." Loud and raucous, Anti-Flag was a taste of vintage 1977-era punk rock.