Girl at the Rock Shows

Monday wasn’t a bad day, but it also wasn’t my best day. Work was fine, but after work, I had to rush to the camera store to get a new lens because mine broke. It was nothing I did; it was a freak thing where a ball bearing or something got loose to the point where using my lens was a task and a half. I was stressed, and after forking over more money than I wanted to (this is why I never really wanted to get into photography), I had a brand-new lens. I had been excited for Monday night’s show at The Fine Line, but after this whole ordeal, all I really wanted to do was go home and go to bed. However, my gut was telling me that this was a show that I just could not miss and that it would only help my mental health after the stress of what had just happened. Per usual, my gut was right.

Monday night’s show started with Ingrown from Idaho. I just caught this band about two months ago when they opened for The Acacia Strain at The Varsity Theater, so I knew what I was in for, and I was excited for it. Per usual, this band was beyond brutal. Their heavy and sinister sound rang through the nicely packed venue as the audience transformed from a mob of people just standing around to a sweaty, disheveled mass of limbs. Okay, maybe that’s a bit dramatic. In all honesty, it seemed like it took a hot minute for the audience to catch onto the heaviness of this set. Sure, there were a few people in attendance who had clearly come just to see this trio do what they do best, but beyond that, I feel like Ingrown’s heaviness caught some off guard. By the end of the set, you could see that Ingrown had done their job. Even if you were at this show to see one of the other two amazing acts on the bill, Ingrown grew on you and, at the end of their quick thirty minutes on stage, you were in love. Idaho is quite far from Minneapolis, Minnesota, so I know that my being able to catch this band twice in such a short time span was a bit of a fluke, but I hope it continues to happen.

I know that everyone is still talking about the Turnstile show that happened on Saturday at The Armory, but that talk should be about the set that Angel Du$t gave on Monday. Maybe some of that is jealousy that I wasn’t at Turnstile (I opted to watch my baby niece so my brother and his wife could go out for the first time since having the baby), but, truly, I don’t understand how Turnstile got so big when Angel Du$t continues to grind but has a sound that, in my opinion, is a bit better. Go ahead, crucify me for that statement. I get it, and I promise, this is not me crapping on Turnstile– I do like them, but there was just something so genuine about Angel Du$t’s performance on Monday night.

Why am I comparing these two bands? Well, Angel Du$t was actually formed by members of Turnstile and Trapped Under Ice. As a result, people often compare the two. Although there are definitely comparisons to make, Angel Du$t is a one-of-a-kind band. They take the artistry that Turnstile brings to the table and mix it with a more H2O-styled hardcore sound. It’s bouncy and infectious, but intense and hard at the same time. Although there has been a lot of changeover among the band’s members (with vocalist Justice Tripp, of Trapped Under Ice fame, being the sole original member), they felt perfectly together during their time on stage on Monday night. I watched in awe as some of the audience members continuously found their way to the stage to stage dive, but not before grabbing the microphone to shout a few of the words. There was an intense sense of community and an incredible sense of passion that radiated from not only the band but also the audience. My only complaint was that it was all over in the blink of an eye. They didn’t stay on stage for more than forty minutes (which was definitely not enough), yet they were able to not only leave an incredible impression on me, but they also provided a platform for the twenty-five stagedivers who got involved.

Since I’m sure I’ll already get some hate mail for the Turnstile comments, let’s go ahead and keep it going. I was less than impressed with the headlining act– at first. There is no reason that it should have taken Fleshwater nearly forty minutes to start after Angel Du$t ended their set. Sure, they had an elaborate stage set-up that included a working windmill, flying ducks, and so much more, but that was all set up before this show even started. I was annoyed to say the least. My exhaustion and the stress of my afternoon were taking a toll on me, and I’ll be honest, I thought about walking out after twenty minutes of waiting. I mean, come on. Is any band worth waiting that long? Just like at the beginning of the night, my gut was telling me to hang on just a bit longer. Something was telling me that this band was more than worth the wait, so, although annoyed, I stuck it out. That’s when the house lights went off and Fleshwater started their set.

It was like being transported into a fairytale. From the lights to the moving windmill and to a reading of ‘The Ugly Duckling’ being played through the speakers as the band took the stage, I felt like I had been transported out of The Fine Line and into a whole other world. As the recording faded, the band took over and instantly won me over with their sound. It’s grungey and alt-rock-based but has these cool elements of everything from post-hardcore to nu-metal to shoegaze wrapped up in it. Honestly, there’s no way to categorize this band into just one genre, but that’s the point, right? My annoyance with this band instantly fell away as I realized that this was the first time in a hot minute when I was hearing and feeling something completely unique and fresh.

I can tell you that the band played just over a dozen songs. Beyond that, I got nothing for you. Having never heard of this band before, I couldn’t tell you what songs they played or if there were any surprises, but I can tell you that each song seemed to hit a bit differently and a bit harder than the last. There’s just something about this band that is so intriguing and captivating. The way they were able to create a performance that seemed to take over all the senses was wild. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been to shows with epic lights, and Monday night was not the first time I had seen “snow” (aka bubbles) fall from the ceiling of the Fine Line; yet, this was different. I attribute this difference to Fleshwater’s sound, which seemed complicated and confusing, yet their performance felt organic and raw.

There were many times on Monday when I had to trust my gut, which can be a bit nerve-wracking at the time, but my gut never leads me astray. Case in point: my beautiful new camera lens and my newfound love in Fleshwater.

Line Up:

Ingrown

Angel Du$t

Fleshwater

Venue: Fine Line

Smell-O-Meter: Sweat

Average Age of the Crowd: 19

Crowd Surfers- 1

Stage Divers- 52 Counted (although I’m sure I missed some)

Mosh-ability- 8 out of 10

Amount of Beer Spilled On Me While Walking Around- $0

Broken Bones- None Noticed

Spotted Flying Through The Air- Bodies and Bubbles

Fights- None

Pukers- 0

Passed Out People- 2

Idiots Taken Out By Security – 0

How Many Times I’ve Seen These Bands Before (or at least how many times I can remember)-

Ingrown – 1

Angel Du$t – 2

Fleshwater – 0

Celebrity Sightings – None

Overall Score –8.2 out of 10

Show on Deck —Black Rebel Motorcycle Club / Humanist // Water From your Eyes / Her New Knife

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