23 October 2009 Reitz Union Ballroom: Heartless Bastards, Paxico via Mexico, T. J. Masters

Friday afternoon I went skydiving for the first time; it was really nice. Upon landing, I dragged my foot against a rock and had to spend 5 hours in the emergency room. As a direct result, I showed up late for the Heartless Bastards, Paxico via Mexico, T.J. Masters show at the Reitz Union. It was also Gator Nights so there was popcorn there, and the popcorn got stuck in my teeth and made me very uncomfortable, especially combined with the foot pain. But I was instantly and simultaneously cheered and frustrated as I arrived after T.J. Masters had played but noticed that their show must have been earth-shattering because the ground was covered with balloons and confetti which apparently they shot into the crowd using a Flaming Lips-style confetti blower.

Paxico via Mexico spent a while plugging in things and then checking their sound. This was explained when I found out later that the HBs showed up late and hogged all available sound-check time before the show—what a bunch of HBs. The set started with what was unquestionably the most tasteful and beautiful sound made in Gainesville the entire night: a 3 part harmony sung flawlessly over some risky chromatic variation combined with a finely seasoned instrumental accompaniment—very tasty indeed. It was a new song and everyone wanted to know what it was called, but the band demanded that we hold our breaths until the album release. The music continued with PvM wistfully grabbing my hand and leading me down a gas-lantern lit tunnel and into lavender-scented gardens of deep-seated lyrics and melodies that rang so true somehow—like tasting a Smartie for the first time in 18 years and being thrown back into a joyful childhood memory of dressing like Dracula for Halloween and collecting a pillowcaseful of yummies on a cool night. The final song left a truly lasting impression as the crowd shouted along with the catchy, join-in lyrics the band described in a recent interview as being the least meaningful lyrics they have ever written: “ah-ah, ah-ah-ah-ah.”

Heartless Bastards took the stage, and with the slightest delay, the noise of the first song smashed into us like a brick wave demolishing itself on a beach. In a town generally scarce of people over the age of 30, the band looked old, like a bunch of old rockers. Perhaps in spite of their advanced appearance, the HB’s sound was loud and vibrant. The lead vocalist weaved her hauntingly deep (deep especially for a female voice) melodies throughout an invasively solid wall of a rhythm section (the guitar joining in). Every song blending in style with the next, Heartless Bastards relentlessly and repeatedly swung their pendulum of sound and power over the crowd like wrecking ball knocking out unsuspecting international students who wandered into the room from the tamer areas of Gator Nights.

I think the RUB folks could have done a better job at matching musical styles as the evening did feel a bit disjointed; however, I am by no means complaining about seeing these great bands together.  On second thought, perhaps the disjointedness was more of an aesthetic virtue. Well done, RUB—keep ‘em coming.

- Michael K. O’Malley