SHQ Grand Opening (by Defensive Listening)

After many "threadjacks" and a bit of word of mouth hyperbole emanating from inside the Golden Triangle, the Secret Headquarters finally had its big opening night on Saturday. As you might already know, this place was started by the three-hydra-headed monster of Scott Porter from Record Hop, Cody Robinson from Medicine Window, and Rob Black, formerly (sigh) of Birth to Burial. I'd like to commend these gentlemen for not having any of their pet projects play on opening night, even though they were probably so overworked in preparation that performing was out of the question. SHQ is housed in the former Art Prostitute space, and it's nice to know that something worth talking about will still be going on within those walls. Let's hope that they will have something to discuss besides some dudes sitting around playing video games, because that would be downright tragic. The event featured three Denton bands who, despite sharing some of the same influences, coudn't have been more different.

Fra Pandolf was the first band to play, and they came out with a fairly convincing wash of guitar volume and intensity. Unfortunately, for all the noise they made, they played the least attended set of the night. I thought this was a shame, because I definitely enjoyed them the most out of the three bands. Fra Pandolf's sound was mostly distortion overlapping with washer and dryer tumbling rhythms. I felt this defied and even improved upon some of the anemic "shoegazer" bands they claim as influences. Rollerskate Skinny? It's almost shocking to see someone list that. The only comparable thing I can think of is Hot Rod,the spinoff of another 90's shoegaze casualty: The Drop Nineteens. It seems weird even bringing up some of these old Clinton Era groups... I feel like I should be jotting this down on a Newton Message Pad. Kidding about their influences aside, I thoroughly enjoyed their set. My only minor complaint would probably be that there were times when I wanted the vocals to push as hard as their devastating guitar attack.

Shiny around the Edges were a huge contrast to the openers. This duo held back piece by piece until there was nothing left but a lonely sorrowful voice. They referred to one song as "Song for Chris Flemmons to Sing" and I was really glad he wasn't there to sing it. They also had help from a guy who played Lap Steel as a guest. This was the best part of the set. One song just peeled back its layers until it was nothing but the female vocalist and the lap steel harmonizing together, and I would have really enjoyed a whole performance based around that. Shortly after their set started, the place was packed. It seemed very much like a couple of the times I witnessed Art Prostitute spilling out into the street during an event.

The grand and bombastic finale to this particular event was the melodramatic score provided by The Angelus, and the band really went all out to start their set. They had almost everything I've seen at Catholic funerals just short of smoke. Frontman Emil Rapstine was prowling back and forth ringing this big rusty bell to signal the first song, and I was scared shitless. What kind of creepy shit is that? The band obviously takes their music as serious as religion, and while we're on the topic, I want to mention that Emil's brother Xanderonce played Santa Claus (Xander Claus) on my favorite Christmas record of all time. I'm saving that review for a special Holiday piece, though. Anyways, The Angelus launched into their ominous set of songs shortly after the bell ringing, and they seemed to spend so much time building up that there were many moments in which the drummer appeared to be just itching to finally start playing. The Angelus brought a thick and morose atmosphere to the Secret Headquarters, and since theTah-Dahs are playing there soon, Lord knows it won't be the last time.

I really liked the feeling of being at a show here. I like the emphasis on the bands, not smelling like smoke, and pretty much everything that sets this place apart from spending time at a typical club. It's kind of a drag that they can't have bands play every night, but I know that the space is used for various other things, which likely makes my wish unrealistic. Besides, Denton is spoiled with too many good venues anyways. And a closing message to Scott: when you make a Mark Cuban sized promise to have the Mavs game on t.v., you should probably keep it. Seeing a bunch of embarrassed indie rockers hanging around a car radio and looking all worried was one of the saddest things I've ever seen in my life.