Fighter Era (spider mute)

Two pretty great bands at the Entry last night. Spider Fighter is Arzu Gokcen's latest project (after the screamy So Fox and sublime-yet-marital Selby Tigers). They were pretty straightforward pop-punk, and for the first time ever she's not surrounded by a majority of boys. But as usual, when she took center stage with that eternal beehive wig and stern pursed lips, she definitely looked older and wiser than those two young pie-eyed bandmates (I didn't stare so much at the drummer, who was a boy). Not sure which spider web she's thinking of thrashing up with her broom, but damn I wish she'd scream more. Why preserve your vocal cords, Arzu? Wreck 'em, let the world listen to 'em deteriorate too. Look at Brian Johnson, he's like 70 years old and still puts a hoarse syllable or three into the mike when he has to. Anyway, despite the receding Arzu larynx, the third song had a great cascading riff, and the other tunes seemed competent but forgettable in a pink-Soviettes kinda way. I've often dreamed of Arzu setting her gratuitous screams loose again from that spinning iceberg of righteous Greg-Ginn riffs, and who knows maybe she'll do the job in Spider Fighter (whose name may or may not be an allusion to an insect repellent called Black Flag) (and in any case arachnophobe Sarah smiled upon it).

Mute Era are now my most favorite local band. Former Sweet JAP screamer Sho Nikaido and his lover/drummer Jessica were a riveting symbiosis of Eddie Cochran and Joy Division, with the fifties echoplex of Sho's punkabilly larynx hiccupping and tongue-gashing all round Jessica's proud, erect beats. (How to describe her? In every song she kept virtuoso rhythm while staring confidently midstage, mostly to Sho's left, as if she were composing a mattress-activity list while letting her hyperactive biorhythms control her wrists and ankles.) Perfect sound forever, and I was heartened to see at least three people filming the gig for posterity.

There were two other acts, but we had to catch the last bus outta there. I remember before I left, I jabbered into Lindsey's ear a bit of soused nonsense about setting up a "Whittier cab co-op" from the Entry. Hopefully she'll scribble a good review of the Birthday Suits' performance while deleting the wonderful transit pipe-dream I planted in her brain. (Although in retrospect I guess a "cab co-op" just means, y'know, sharing a cab.)