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| Matthew Kessig |
CoolDad Note: I saw Weston, Digger, The Fiendz, and Mikey Erg play Asbury Park's Wonder Bar on Thursday Night. Before I got around to putting down any thoughts on the show, Matthew Kessig (Corrina, Corrina / Little Rooney) put up his hand to do a review of the tour's stop in Philadelphia. Never one to turn down someone's offer to do my work for me, I jumped at the chance. Matt gives us a very different perspective than I would have, and that's always fun. Check out his review below. You can catch his band, Corrina, Corrina, along with Mikey Erg, as part of the Teenage Halloween record release show at Red Bank Rehearsal Studios on December 19th.
by Matthew Kessig
It’s a weird thing being able to say I saw Weston play live, mostly because of the fact that their first full-length, A Real-Life Story of Teenage Rebellion, is just as old as I am. This was extremely apparent at First Unitarian Church in Philadelphia on Friday, where Weston played a reunion show along with Mikey Erg, The Fiendz, and Digger. Apart from a few children whose fathers couldn’t resist giving them an authentic 90s punk experience, my friends and I were the youngest people at that show by about 5 years; so, naturally, I felt slightly out of place. I was a pair of converse with tight blue jeans in a sea of cargo-shorts and old beat-up running shoes. But I wasn’t going to complain. I was seeing Weston and Mikey Erg at The Church, two of my favorites at my (now) favorite venue; and if that meant feeling a little out of place for the night, then that was okay with me.
Mikey Erg, punk’s hardest working musician, started off the show. There were about 50 people in the room when he started his set; but that didn’t stop him from going absolutely bonkers up on that stage with that big, red Stratocaster and loud as hell AC-30. The great thing about a Mikey Erg set is that you never know what you’re gonna get song-wise. The guy’s written so many goddamn songs that the set-list possibilities are endless. His set was riddled with familiar songs from The Ergs! and some of his solo material. He played crowd favorites like “A Very Pretty Song For A Very Special Lady” and “Pray For Rain,” only taking breaks to fix his glasses in between songs. For just being a guy with a guitar, his energy was almost unmatched until Weston played. I’ve always said that if Mikey Erg opened up every show I went to for the rest of my life, I would be completely fine with it; and last night was proof of that. He rocked the room with his power-pop; and, whether you were an old fan or just hearing him for the first time, you were blown away. I’m lucky enough to be playing a show with him in my hometown of Red Bank this December.
The next act to take the stage was The Fiendz. I’m gonna be honest. I had no clue what to expect from these guys. I had never heard of them, and they all looked to be in their mid-forties, wearing clothes that one would typically wear to mow their lawn. There was a weird familiarity I felt when they walked on stage, but I couldn’t tell what it was. “Hi, we’re The Fiendz from New Jersey.” Ah, there it is.
They stood up there, gave each other the “You good?” glance, and the drummer counted on his sticks. If I told you that I underestimated these guys, I would be selling you the understatement of the year. They were fantastically fun. The first song started off with a Bouncing Souls-esque drumbeat, extremely thick rhythm guitar, and catchy-as-hell bassline. My buddies and I exchanged surprised glances, and prepared for what was going to be the high energy set none of us were ready for. It was crazy how each song sounded extremely similar, but had its own unique qualities. If I were to sum up their sound, I would sound drunk, because I’d say that they had the power chord driven structure of The Misfits with the structural integrity of a prog-rock band like King Crimson. These guys would be rocking out to a four chord Ramones sound-a-like one second, and then be ripping intricate bridge sections that only veteran musicians would be able to pull off. And the vocal melodies, THE VOCAL MELODIES, my God. Any band could only wish to have vocals as tight these guys had. Overall, nobody was expecting how good this band was gonna be; and, for about a half hour, we were all treated to the incredibly fun and extremely talented Fiendz.
At this point in the show, the venue was packed, which was nice considering that just 45 minutes before the show started it was empty. The room filled more and more as each act played their set; and by the time Pennsylvania's Pop-Punk sweethearts Digger went on, the crowd had reached its peak.
I asked my friend, “What do they sound like?” and he responded “Weston,” which would prove to be true as soon as the band started their set. It seemed that just as many people there loved Digger as Weston, which I think could have been due to the fact that most of the people there had grown up seeing both bands together. Also, singer/guitarist Chris Benner of Digger was once in Weston.
One word to describe Digger? Fun. They were just a really, really fun band. They had fun. The crowd had fun. Everything was fun. There were a lot of parallels between Weston and Digger that were just beautiful 90s clichés. Whether it was songs about articles of clothing, girls, or just being a kid in the 90s, Digger proved that you’re never too old (or too young) for nostalgia as long as you have others to share the moment with.
This was the point in the night where I started to dismiss my earlier discomfort. I realized that most of the people here were my age when they fell head-over-heels in love with these bands; so why should I feel weird about that? I’m just the second generation Digger/Weston fan; and that felt pretty awesome, because in a weird way I knew a lot of the older fans in the crowd felt proud to see younger kids sing the songs from their teen years, kind of like a father who walks in on his child listening to a record that he once loved. There were a lot of moments in the night where I’d turn to the person next to me and we’d scream the lyrics at each other with the biggest, goofiest smiles on our faces. It didn’t matter that they were twice my age. It just mattered that we were having the time of our lives, and nobody could take that from us.
Weston took the stage; and, my Lord, those outfits were out of this world. There was a beautiful combination of Buzzcocks teeshirts, white “Elvis” jackets, Hawaiian shirts, and sweater vests. There’s nothing in this world that I look forward to more than seeing the outfit James Alex Snyder is going to wear. I will give any person $100 if they can find someone that can pull off red jeans, white vans, a Hawaiian shirt, and argyle sweater vest better than this man. Without getting too sentimental, he is the reason I fell in love with this band so quickly. I had the absolute pleasure of meeting James Alex and the rest of his current band, Beach Slang, on October 3rd of this year, when he allowed a few of my friends and me to take the stage to play at the last show at the Asbury Lanes. This was quite possibly the highlight of my entire life. So being able to see him and Beach Slang drummer JP Flexner take the stage together again really made the nostalgia factor that much higher for me.
From the second the blaring guitar lead of “Retarded” filled the room, Philadelphia's hearts belonged to Weston. The crowd turned into a tsunami that rushed full-force at the stage. I was standing at the back before the band started; and, as soon as they strummed the first string, I found myself at the front of the stage with no recollection of how I got there and no intentions of caring. From this point on, the night was filled with songs from Weston's entire discography, including deep cuts and fan favorites such as “Just Like You” and “Varsity Sweater.” While it was an extremely passionate and beautiful performance, the flaws and tribulations the band faced throughout the set were some of the highlights. Whether it was a crowd-surfer falling onto James’s pedals, completely cutting the signal, or JP and bassist Jesse Short struggling to play to the intro to “In April Sometime,” it was all so incredibly human. This is what made the set the powerhouse that it was. It was just so genuine, real, and beautifully flawed. In that moment, I fell in love with Weston’s imperfection.
As the set was reaching its end, the fans knew what was coming. “I got a new shirt, for school yesterday, and my mom said I looked real handsome in it.” I can guarantee you that you have never seen a group of fully-grown men sing so passionately about a striped short-sleeved shirt. And then, without a second of hesitation, the band went into everyone’s favorite: “Heather Lewis.” This was quite possibly my favorite moment of any show I have ever attended. I screamed. SCREAMED. As I type this the very next day, I still can’t find my voice; and I still feel the heartbreak that the young 1990s Weston once felt. There was hugging, presumably some crying from the die-hards, and smiles all around. When the song ended, the band walked off; and we were endlessly satisfied.
Some fans weren’t done, though; and yelled the typical “one more song,” which is kind of like the equivalent to screaming “Freebird” when a band asks what you want to hear. But Weston was not done yet. They walked out, asked if anyone knew the words to every band’s go-to cover, “Where Eagles Dare,” and recruited, maybe, the drunkest man in Philadelphia, which is pretty impressive in itself when you think about it. This man in his mid-thirties, rocking a Phillies baseball cap and a plain grey sweatshirt, went up there and sang his beautiful little heart out. For the fifth time in the night, the crowd was blindsided by unexpected amazingness. This guy had to be the most confident man on the planet with the, until now, unknown ability to be the perfect frontman. He did all the classic moves: put the mic to the crowd for the choruses, pace back and forth intensely. He just had an amazing time doing it. After this man had received his high fives and pats on the back, Weston ended the show with a self-proclaimed “deep cut,” and the show was over.
As the crowd slowly made their way towards the exits, I went over to the merch table to grab myself a shirt for my collection. Unfortunately, they didn’t have my size, which was initially disappointing; but it was okay because I saw Weston that night. Wouldn’t it be selfish of me to want anything more? I was so incredibly lucky to see a band that, after they broke up, nobody thought they would see again. Whether it was the beautiful mishaps throughout the set, the hilarious buddy-comedy romance that JP and Mikey had while switching on the drums in between songs, or just the unmatched passion and fun these old friends had while playing their songs, there will never be a show quite as genuine as Weston at the First Unitarian Church.
