Gig Review: Spotlight on Spotlights — best live power trio I’ve seen in a while!

Gig reviews? They used to happen all the time. Now, not so much. I’m making an effort to still get to things, and to write about them. There’s no real audience for them anymore. But, hey, I’m trying…

Spotlights

Valhalla, Wellington

Thursday, November 28

I love a good power trio. Three players and the truth. No room for mistakes, no room for indulgence. Keep it lean, and so clean as to pick the bones from the carcass of the beast. I wanted to see Spotlights in Wellington because I loved their most recent album. And the association with Ipecac Recordings (home to the Melvins, a label established by Mike Patton). And I love a good bit of doom, with slatherings of sludge. And Spotlights promised all of that. Plus Valhalla. A home for such things!

By god, this gig did not disappoint.

Formed by husband and wife team Mario (guitar, vocals, keys) and Sarah Quintero (bass, vocals), they’ve had Chris Enriquez on drums for the majority of their time, and last year released their fourth full-lengther, their best to date, Alchemy For The Dead:

In a short, pulverising set, the band’s post-metal edge was reminiscent of Killing Joke via the Melvins. Something in Enriquez’ playing was reminiscent of Melvins drummer Dale Crover at his finest. Huge sounding toms, big clear crashes on cymbals, and such authority behind the stomp. But alway such fearsome groove.

I almost wanted to say he was doing the heavy lifting, but that’s never the way a great trio works, and the ominous, steady fuzz and pulse from Sarah’s bass was both part of the frontline melodic assault, and a dead lock-in for the rhythmic backline. Mario’s guitar issued squall and howl in and around big, dumb, beautiful riffage — and their voices blended, not just with each other, but into a blur within the music.

TransAm came to mind, even the very earliest Shihad (Killing Joke association), in terms of the way all three instrumentalists hit at their tools with such conviction.

One disappointment, in a gig that was an utter thrill to be at, was how fucking flat the audience seemed. Yeah, there was movement. There was appreciation. But the front two members of the band were so genuinely thrilled to be in New Zealand, and playing in front of receptive audiences, they were full with praise for the country, the support bands, the vibe, the atmosphere, and gratitude for the turnout. And in reply: Dead Fucking Air. Just troglodytes standing there. All of us. Kiwi audiences are stoic weirdos at the best of times. But sometimes it really can be downright embarrassing.

Still, I’ve thought a lot about this gig in the couple of days since. I just loved the way they left it all on stage. Short, never sweet — but always aiming for connection, and brutal but beautiful. They swaggered through the songs, mostly from the most recent album, and they didn’t bother with any tacky encore nonsense. They’d opened a vein and bled themselves close to dry on that stage. And we stood there. Applauded. And then shuffled out the door.

Many of us there because of the associations mentioned at the top — the Patton connection, the fact the band had played with Melvins and opened for Bungle, etc — but hopefully, as inarticulate as we were all bunched together, there were several brand new fans born as a result.

I know I felt like I saw something truly special. I felt it all through my ribcage, and it nestled down deep in my heart. This was loud, and ominous, and clanging and crashing and hypnotic. It was also soulful and filled with art, and aimed right for the heart in the end. Which is where it will stay with me for some time.

This set from earlier in the year, and elsewhere, give further background context as how great this band really was to see live: