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Cherry Glazzer w/ Slow Hollows

Feb 01, 2017


Tuesday night’s Radio K sponsored show at the 7th street entry saw two LA bands rock the stage with totally different sounds. Opening for Cherry Glazerr, the Californian five-piece Slow Hollows meandered onstage in front of the growing Minneapolis crowd, under blue and red lights and what appeared to be three giant fluorescent neon paper mache genitals, presumably referencing the title of the tour; “P***y Bites Back Tour”. Lead vocalist and guitar player Austin Feinstein began the night, laying down his mellow vocals and some charming guitar before the entire band broke into a head-bobbing instrumental jam, supported by a bouncing bass line. Their song “Again” featured a beautiful trumpet performance, slowing the tempo down for a sad song. Later in the set, the band noticed that guitarist Dylan Thinnes’ string had snapped. Feinstein turned around and went into the next song right away, and Thinnes finished out the set one string short. After a few more jams, the band packed their things up and passed the torch on to Cherry Glazerr.

After taking a sneak peek at the setlist before the doors opened, I had a good idea of what to expect, at least song-wise. The nearly 20 songs listed seemed to suggest a wicked show to come, but I was not prepared for the bizarre, awesome, punk rock act that was about to take the stage. The lights shifted to a yellow and purple hue, and the three newest members of the band took the stage in front of a now packed room. They began playing, building up energy until a wall of sound filled the venue; this was frontwoman Clementine Cleevy’s introduction. High-stepping onto stage with a wide-eyed look, she took the mic and busted into a heavy, screaming rendition of “Sip-o-Poison”, with plenty of rapid tongue movements and what seemed like a conehead alien impersonation. Cleevy grabbed her weapon of choice and ripped off a gritty guitar riff, still with plenty of tongue action. The audience seemed half taken aback, half completely into it.

The band didn’t stop there with their new material, rattling off five more hits off their 2017 release Apocalipstick; including a heartfelt “Nuclear Bomb” and a smooth “Told You I’d Be with the Guys” with another sick guitar solo from Clementine. She took a short break to grab a fallen “vagina cloth” from the stage and return it to its designated area, joking with keyboardist Sasami that there will be “no vaginas left behind!”. Once they had salvaged said genitalia, an ominous guitar intro led into “White’s Not My Color This Evening” from their 2014 release Haxel Princess. The new band configuration was creating an obviously fuller sound, with much appreciated synths and more complex drum patterns. The new, heavily bearded drummer Tabor Allen was going insane on the drums, so much so that he lost a stick during the song. Revisiting the band’s 2014 songs with the new members was the true revelation of this performance.

Noticeably, every member of the band asked for their vocals and instruments to be turned up. Midway through the show, Cleevy admitted to the crowd that their sound was a “greasy” mess to them on stage, but reassured everybody it was still “a lot of fun”. Despite not being able to hear themselves, the band powered through several new tunes and classics, including “Trick or Treat Dancefloor”, “Teenage Girl”, and new song “Humble Pro”. This song, while on the new album, still has the feel of the early Cherry Glazerr, and the fast-paced guitar was really fun. The end of the set included one of my personal favorites, “Grilled Cheese” (a song literally about a grilled cheese sandwich). Before their final song, Clementine waved to the crowd, saying jokingly “We’re Fleetwood Mac, thank you all for coming!”. After an outro, the band thanked the crowd again and left the stage. The crowd cheered, but didn’t move an inch

once the band had left. They returned to the cheers and Cleevy announced casually they had one more tune left. That tune happened to be an absolutely nasty cover of Nirvana’s “Territorial Pissings”. The previously mellow Minneapolis crowd went nuts, and a mosh broke out on the main floor. After once again thanking the crowd over loud cheers, off they went, to the bar, or to bed, or to Omaha Nebraska, or wherever you go after you kill a show. 

Max P