Boyscout opened with two drummers, two guitars. Informed by San Diego's unique brand of hardcore and guitarist Lain Weck's roots (Marasol, Fever Sleeves) in odd-time noodling, the set was an energetic experiment in dueling strings and syncopated rhythms. Sleep-y rock riffs gave way to Mercury Program space outs. The synergy between musicians was evident as bro hugs were exchanged mid-solo. Choke up your neckerchief and modulate your guitar to the bass range, Boyscout is here to explode your brain.
Battlehooch from San Francisco's first song was a dead-ringer for "Rudy Can't Fail" and the front man rocked a raging chimo, but so what? The group was exactly as vicious and intoxicating as the name implies.
Fellow Frisco dudes Judgment Day perked ears with brothers on overdriven violin and cello. Dillinger Escape Plan blastbeat drums. Kronos Quartet cuts an album with the Deftones. Apocalyptica, but cooler.
Burning of Rome clearly wasn't phased by the U-31 fiasco. Front man Adam, dressed like Robert Smith gone droogie, made sure to climb on and fall off of his keyboard plenty of times.
"We ran out of mega-phones," he says. "We broke them all."
Boyscout opened with two drummers, two guitars. Informed by San Diego's unique brand of hardcore and guitarist Lain Weck's roots (Marasol, Fever Sleeves) in odd-time noodling, the set was an energetic experiment in dueling strings and syncopated rhythms. Sleep-y rock riffs gave way to Mercury Program space outs. The synergy between musicians was evident as bro hugs were exchanged mid-solo. Choke up your neckerchief and modulate your guitar to the bass range, Boyscout is here to explode your brain.
Battlehooch from San Francisco's first song was a dead-ringer for "Rudy Can't Fail" and the front man rocked a raging chimo, but so what? The group was exactly as vicious and intoxicating as the name implies.
Fellow Frisco dudes Judgment Day perked ears with brothers on overdriven violin and cello. Dillinger Escape Plan blastbeat drums. Kronos Quartet cuts an album with the Deftones. Apocalyptica, but cooler.
Burning of Rome clearly wasn't phased by the U-31 fiasco. Front man Adam, dressed like Robert Smith gone droogie, made sure to climb on and fall off of his keyboard plenty of times.
"We ran out of mega-phones," he says. "We broke them all."