Pants on fire

Sometimes, for the sake of rock ’n’ roll, you’ve gotta immerse yourself in the sweat and the salty air to really feel the music. Air-conditioned venues with state-of-the-art sound systems are usually a bonus, but sometimes, for the sake of rock ’n’ roll, you’ve gotta smell the funk to really feel the funk.

A recent Saturday hoedown at the Colonial Theater—featuring headliner the Jon Spencer Blues Explosion, along with those buzz bands du jour Yeah Yeah Yeahs and Liars—was more than just a sweaty affair. For the more than 250 people who showed up, church was in session, and the bands all had their individual revelations to sell. And, although temperatures inside the venue reached an almost unfathomable 90 degrees, ventilation and air quality weren’t a concern.

The pinnacle of the night’s festivities came during the brief 45-minute set by New York band Liars. Fusing the best elements of early Brainiac and Sonic Youth with the snotty, belligerent antics of Mark E. Smith’s the Fall—not to mention a frontman who resembles Gibby Haynes circa early Butthole Surfers and who channels the energy of New York’s post-punk noir—Liars, lit by only a few gels, ground through a gritty set of effective, well-executed bursts of sonic chaos.

Locals were treated to tracks from the band’s latest full-length, They Threw Us All in a Trench and Stuck a Monument on Top. On it, singer Angus Andrew and guitarist Aaron Hemphill help destroy conventional song structure with both analog and guitar feedback, abetted by the hypnotic backbeat rhythms of bassist Pat Noecker and drummer Ron Albertson. Although Hemphill spent most of the set with his back turned to the audience, you couldn’t help but respect his attention to his rhythm section and his ability to create massive walls of noise. Even frontman Angus seemed focused more on the walls of the theater than those cramming the front of the stage.

For a brief moment, it seemed as if we were invited into one of their own East Coast warehouse parties (which the band prefers over the less personable club setting), only the beer was available at the bar next door. You can forgive the sweltering temperatures on nights like these. After all, bands of this ilk don’t come along too often.

Liars make music that may never cross over into the mainstream. And, although the band members will never date Drew Barrymore or write trite Christmas songs for their adoring fan base, these four lads can wake up each morning and look at their battered, road-worn faces and know they mean something to a few people in each town they visit.