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Geoff Hayton initially formed Flyover States with the concept of playing a single show and then retiring these songs forever, and it was my misfortune to be unable to attend that show. Lucky for me, these songs proved to be too good to retire, and so I get another chance. At that, I miss the first few songs of the set--like a well-oiled machine, the booking here at O'Brien's. But I'm only peeved until I get settled in and my attention is swept up in these lovely, melodic songs. It's pure Boston power-pop at its finest, and Geoff has an amazing ability to play slide guitar solos without a slide. Perhaps the best thing I can say about it is that the Neutral Milk Hotel cover blends right in with the songs around it. My one complaint is that Geoff strains for some of the high notes, and I wonder (as I often do) why people write songs out of their range. But maybe they were just too good this way to mess with.
Mycroft is next. They are also melodic, but much weirder. Their songs are mostly very short, punky little pop songs, with the odd strain of country rock or hip-hop drifting through and miscegenating rather interestingly. With the lead singer's tuneful growl and the bassist doing harmonies, this part of their set works rather well. As the set continues, some of the songs start to stretch out and include guitar solos, which I don't think work as well. Some are discordant in a way that doesn't sound intentional, while others have a jam-band feel that fits weirdly with the other things they're doing. (Of course, the other things they're doing fit weirdly with each other, so maybe it's just that I don't like the jam-band feel so much.)
Shrinking Islands are a guitar and drums two-piece. I like them a lot; they make a pretty, gentle folk-rock, but they are saved from any hint of wussiness by the supple, energetic drumming. The guitar work is good in a restrained way, keeping our attention focused on the songs. The singing is a little rough and strained-sounding when they start, but gets smoother and surer as the set progresses. (Hey, vocalists! Warm up before your set! It's not a bourgeois affectation, just good musicianship!) So by the end of the set the effect is lovely and polished, and Tom and I both independently think of the mellow side of The Velvet Underground.
Pants Yell are yet another gentle, poppy rock band, rounding out an unusually coherent bill--props to Dan Shea for booking it. During their first song, I cringe at the singer's sour notes, but as soon as they finish the song he requests some monitor and apologizes for any sour notes, and it gets much better after that. The instrumentation of these songs is really light. I keep thinking of a '60s British female pop singer. (I can see her, thigh-high white go-go boots and all, but I'm not sure if there's some particular '60s British female pop singer that they sound like, or just that archetype.) After a fairly short set, they call Shrinking Islands back onstage and perform a few songs together as a five-piece. Their individual sounds were close enough that they merge smoothly, and even add some harmony, which suits these songs. There is a weird moment when they are accosted by a drunken harridan who stands at the front of the stage waving her arms and yelling, "You suck!" On the one hand, she's annoying and she should go away and let us enjoy the music. On the other hand, you don't see a lot of bona fide harridans these days, and it's nice to have an occasion to use the word.
