Affirmation O’Death

i discovered a beautiful band yesterday―they describe themselves as gothic/country/punk, and as sounding like “steam train, wet soil, bad dog, dried blood, knock kneed, blackgrass, rickety fence teeth, men with beards.”

oh, i thought of another way to describe their sound. it’s perfect music for a goth BBQ.

the lead singer’s voice is a diary entry that embarrasses you to read, yet you frame it in a public place as permanent constant proof that life is capable of producing such a sublime slip of grim crackle.

photo courtesy of Maryanne Ventrice

all of their songs ended in wild rusty forgotten roadhouse stage cavorting, and the main guy asked if anyone had a place for five people to sleep that night in D.C. because they didn’t know anybody and had never been here before. i trust they got more than a few invites after their set.

oh. also there was a ukulele onboard; othar the tooth collector is on bass; and there’s a guy in charge of whooping.

photo courtesy of Maryanne Ventrice

the music critic makes you roll your eyes affectionately in solidarity…

Brooklyn’s O’Death shares some commonalities with a shootout that winds up leaving a saloon worse for wear and without a single glass capable of holding any liquid. The band is like the cry of a cougar and the sharp, invigorating pain that would be produced as a glass was smashed into your forehead.

P.S. they were opening for the also-lovely Murder By Death (with a cello, hey hey hey!)