Jonny Numb

I recently found myself thinking about “Echoes,” the Public Radio International-produced program that was aired by my local NPR affiliate late Saturday nights into the wee hours of Sunday, enveloping the listener into a sort of dissociative ambient trance.

I recall working on stories or screenplays or other creative pursuits to the droning synth soundscapes that seemed to go on for 30-minute chunks or longer, at which point host John Diliberto would identify a piece by ambient patron saint Steve Roach (there were other artists, of course, but he had the most memorable name).

All that said, Australian quartet Tropical Fuck Storm (TFS for the PC crowd) have nothing in common with ambient music; however, their sound has the same transportive power, largely due to the members’ experimental approach to traditional guitar-bass-drums-vocals songwriting.

Imagine Swans crossed with fellow Aussies Amyl and the Sniffers, and you’re kinda close.

I got to see them live in Baltimore recently, and it was an amazing, energizing performance that sold out the Metro Gallery. Thanks to my buddy Bret for recommending I tag along.

A couple days after the TFS show, I found myself making a semi-impulsive trip to Phantom Power to see all-female punk act Bad Cop Bad Cop.

I’d listened to a song or two on YouTube and liked what I heard. As I’d spent a couple days prior in a state of unpleasant medication withdrawal, I felt like some live music might bring me back to baseline (or at least provide some catharsis).

The opening band, The Iron Roses, radiated an infectious energy during their set, and BCBC amplified said energy to another level, playing for 50 furiously engaging minutes (no encore).

I liked that the mood of the night was one of inclusivity and support, with the refrain of “we have to look out for each other, now more than ever” coming up between songs. That’s been my mantra for a while now, and it was reassuring to hear others echo it.

It was satisfying to see how passionately the crowd responded to the music and messaging. It wasn’t eye-rolling or heavy-handed; rather, I found the sincerity driving the sentiments refreshing.

At the end of the night, my Catharsis Battery felt fully recharged and reminded me of the value in making a pilgrimage to a local venue to experience something new. And, in the process, add an act to my mental list of bands worth checking out when they come through the area.