One terrific thing about local shows is that they provide an alternative to expensive and obnoxious stadium concertos. Those stadium shows are few in Idaho, and the only bands that bother to stop here are big-budget Nashville acts. You know the ones: a studio in Tennessee produces a platinum-selling pop album and calls it “country,” then the band flies out here in a private jet to give all the suburban cowboys a taste of the wild west in the flesh, then a label in New York pockets all the ticket sales. On May 20th, the entire city of Meridian packed into ExtraMile Arena to watch Luke Combs yawn into a kajillion dollar sound system. They sucked down some $10 Miller Lites and sat in the exit traffic long enough to sober up. Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeehaw! Spud Underground was not in attendance. We were across town at Neurolux, enjoying a slew of talented and authentic locals playing for a modest crowd.
Mall Goth Moths are a band you may remember from a few issues back when they won an amp we were giving away. Naturally the first thing I did was scan the stage for that piece of gear. It was nowhere to be found. When I awkwardly grilled Kat about it afterwards, she blamed the stairs, and the weight of that thing, and her spindly arms as perfectly valid reasons to use the smaller Peavey for this particular show.
Good thing the MGMs didn’t need the big balls on that big amp, they rocked impossibly hard without it. Their talent, not their gear, is the reason they’ve been playing multiple shows per month. Klaus literally had all the bells and whistles on his drum kit and made use of every single one of them with unbelievable speed and precision. Bri fingerpicked some cozy bass grooves as effortlessly and smooth as butter on toast. Kat stole center stage, shredding a guitar as big as she is and shocking us all with her vocals. Goddamn, the chick can sing! She’s got power. She’s got range. She’s got vibrato so precise, careful, smooth and calculated that I’m stunned that it came from a human being. Taylor Swift, Tarja Turenen and Linda Perry should all be at the Moth’s next show with a pen and paper.
These shopping center lepidopterans match their talent with a fun stage presence and a unique brand of rock n’ roll. Their between-song vamping was engaging and funny, including unexpected police whistles and screams from behind the drums. This is a welcome contrast from other goth-themed bands I’ve seen that make a point to be as sullen as possible. Their attitude is less “Alastair Crowley Book Club” and more “Riot Grrrl with black eyeliner.” Think Black Sabbath, but a hell of a lot prettier.
Next up on the bill was Black Bolt, who dressed up like cowboys to lampoon the Luke Combs show. This became a running joke throughout the set, they even replaced all the woohoos with yeehaws in their Song 2 cover. The cowboy thing ran until the drummer took his shirt off to avoid sweating to death, but Mr. Lead Guitar stayed in character in his own little world the whole time, dancing as he played and having a contagious time of his life. Black Bolt have great on-stage chemistry and put on a tremendously fun show.
Balks, the stars of last month’s Spud Underground, closed the night. They all lost their shirts at some point in the set, too. It was like Open Mic Night at Chippendale’s. They played a whole bunch of bangers from their album Bad Manners, which you’re an idiot if you haven’t heard yet. Balks’ songs carry a lot of heart, even when they go heavy, and are thick with opinionated disdain, just as punk should be.
I think Boise’s wide and diverse music scene stems from the lack of big names coming to town. Pop-country shows come by and attract every Idahoan outside of Ada county, but the rock bands that I want to see always step over Boise like it’s a dog turd on the sidewalk. So, we’ve made the best of it and taken to entertaining each other. I like it that way, it’s more human. People were paying upwards of $1,300 for a backstage pass just to breathe the same air as Luke Combs. You could buy your favorite local punk 260 beers for that price.
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