I’ve been told not to post shit at 1am on Sunday morning and that it’s better to have a consistent schedule, post regularly either at the beginning of the day or at lunch time on a week day. Those are great tips if you’re measuring your success in terms of Facebook likes and follows. Honestly, I don’t really give a shit and I’m assuming that everyone else that saw Spowder tonight at In The West is also probably still up.
I made a late, game-time decision to go to this show. Earlier, I had a family dinner for my Great-Aunt’s birthday at a diner in Point Pleasant, because celebrating your 95th with pancakes is punk as fuck. Unfortunately though, because I was late, I only caught the last few minutes of Gnard’s set and all of Exmaid’s, but it needs to be said that both of these bands are absolute killers and you should check out Gnards’ Deep and Exmaid’s Neurotic Fantasies on State Champion Records as soon as you’re done here.
Spowder’s set was preceded by a mock game show, hosted by Dash of Secretary Legs, in which the contestants had to guess if a celebrity endorsed wine was real, if something was English food or a Star Wars character, and what was a Spowder song title or made up bullshit. All the contestants won mannequin head’s, because of course they did, which became awesomely hilarious props during Spowder’s set.
Spowder’s a band that has really been buzzing for a minute now. Anyone that’s seen their performance or listened to Health Palm understands why. Last winter, they opened for the Screaming Females at Monty Hall and got an encore as the opener. The crowd as a whole decided that the Screaming Females could wait another fifteen minutes because we all wanted more Spowder. At this past year’s North Jersey Indie Rock Fest, Spowder’s frontman Declan McCleary had his leg in a cast and had to do the entire set seated and still managed to bring the ruckus in a way that just realistically shouldn’t have happened.
Skip ahead to tonight, a small show, small crowd at this DIY studio set up in the industrial, swamp area of New Brunswick, and Spowder brought the house down. And while much of the chaos is more or less a blur, the image of Jeff Hersch, of Glazer, Decoration, and Flemington DIY, standing front and center, gritting his teeth and rocking out like a mother fucker stands out to me as the embodiment of Spowder’s performance and simply of Spowder as a band.
I wasn’t going to write about this show. I didn’t get any new photos. I fucking missed half of it. But on the drive home, I recalled a conversation I had with King Mike about Spowder releasing the music video for Miracle Grow a few months back on a random Thursday night at around 9pm and how a guy who’s been there and done that had so much respect and admiration for a band that is so genuine and authentic and is so above the bullshit just because they don’t give a fuck enough to even consider it. So, in a way I hope is apropo, at 1am on a Sunday morning, respect, Spowder. Keep doing you.
Adam gave man-birth to N.J. Racket and is as close to an "editor-in-chief" the site has. He's a god awful photographer.
Error: No connected account.
Please go to the Instagram Feed settings page to connect an account.