The Sold Outs: Not Holding on the Great “Holly Rock” Tributes
Sub Terra Vita
By Scipio Cepiacanus
November 30, 2010
The Sold Outs: Not Holding on the Great “Holly Rock” Tributes
In late July 2010, a warm day above 80 degrees relented to the sun-settled evening on a rainless, though wet air-humid and damp Saturday night. Near my last tour to Den Haus, in Acqua City, in a year-long effort to chronicle our “life underground,” I arrived to see the “polka rockers,” my friends, and I found a heat up band just starting to set up for their own show. The time ticked its piqued way to 10 PM, and I sat around the lollygagging crowd on the outdoor patio sucking razor blade tubes enduring our first month of smokeless taverns in our State of “Defiled.”
I sat quiet most of the moments before The Sold Outs took the stage proper to playing. Wearing well-fitted lounge tuxedos, gone fab Three, the white coats flared bird-wing lapels, trimmed all by powder-blue twined edges, baby satin in the stage lights, all-out outlined against the black stage wall. These guys from Mankato looked fun. I anticipated forward several minutes to this band, waiting to hear their opening for my friends in the “polka rockers.”
The Sold Outs played an oldie, punkified, which instantly knew as “This magic moment.” What magic summer's scene presented to me, the narrator of these notes, then began filling me with a warm thought at some of the miracles that one can see whenever we remember to look for them. Miracles exist as only the normal things in life. Such it is. I looked and I saw a bridge between a time's music past, updated and rollick-ey for now-today. The next song, “oldick” like the last, remained punksted, yet led out from the vocal lead of the five-string bass player. “My little Runaway.” Oh, how everyone runs away at some point. Reflecting more of how I run than others, the lead electric guitar player and the drummer supported a tinge of Buddy-Rock, vocalized “ahhhh,” in back up.
“I wanna hold your hand,” The Beatles covered, swirled like the old Liverpool place in this caverned crowd of Den Haus. The Sold Outs played this classic a little better than pretty good, and tempo-ed to the punky beat in half the time, it seemed. Time, it seems, goes faster, sometimes, but especially when a skippy-tappy foot dance takes one by the song.
The crowd built. Fun filled into the dark spaces of the room. Back into another goldie, from decades far, far away in a galaxy-wide space of star-studded songs, “Happy together.” The Sold Outs had me selling out to them. “Will you still love me tomorrow?” Falsetto. Dulce. The frenzy in Living a memory. The refrain. The Bridge. Forte. Fugue-ish, of a sort. Paunk-up, dance on down.
The Sold Outs might just sound to me what the radical sounds of the Fifties and Sixties might have sounded to my parents. Then, Buddy Holly was an extremist, but over 50 years we had largely forgotten why what he did was so good to the past, and great for all of us today, and so important for tomorrows. That was why his music was so enjoyable, then. Now, a band like The Sold Outs, good at what they play, and playing extra pretty special well to each other, give a little spin on that one-time legacy of great music by great artists. We cannot forget our roots. They've just updated the songs, and have fun in back-dated jackets.
By Scipio Cepiacanus
November 30, 2010
The Sold Outs: Not Holding on the Great “Holly Rock” Tributes
In late July 2010, a warm day above 80 degrees relented to the sun-settled evening on a rainless, though wet air-humid and damp Saturday night. Near my last tour to Den Haus, in Acqua City, in a year-long effort to chronicle our “life underground,” I arrived to see the “polka rockers,” my friends, and I found a heat up band just starting to set up for their own show. The time ticked its piqued way to 10 PM, and I sat around the lollygagging crowd on the outdoor patio sucking razor blade tubes enduring our first month of smokeless taverns in our State of “Defiled.”
I sat quiet most of the moments before The Sold Outs took the stage proper to playing. Wearing well-fitted lounge tuxedos, gone fab Three, the white coats flared bird-wing lapels, trimmed all by powder-blue twined edges, baby satin in the stage lights, all-out outlined against the black stage wall. These guys from Mankato looked fun. I anticipated forward several minutes to this band, waiting to hear their opening for my friends in the “polka rockers.”
The Sold Outs played an oldie, punkified, which instantly knew as “This magic moment.” What magic summer's scene presented to me, the narrator of these notes, then began filling me with a warm thought at some of the miracles that one can see whenever we remember to look for them. Miracles exist as only the normal things in life. Such it is. I looked and I saw a bridge between a time's music past, updated and rollick-ey for now-today. The next song, “oldick” like the last, remained punksted, yet led out from the vocal lead of the five-string bass player. “My little Runaway.” Oh, how everyone runs away at some point. Reflecting more of how I run than others, the lead electric guitar player and the drummer supported a tinge of Buddy-Rock, vocalized “ahhhh,” in back up.
“I wanna hold your hand,” The Beatles covered, swirled like the old Liverpool place in this caverned crowd of Den Haus. The Sold Outs played this classic a little better than pretty good, and tempo-ed to the punky beat in half the time, it seemed. Time, it seems, goes faster, sometimes, but especially when a skippy-tappy foot dance takes one by the song.
The crowd built. Fun filled into the dark spaces of the room. Back into another goldie, from decades far, far away in a galaxy-wide space of star-studded songs, “Happy together.” The Sold Outs had me selling out to them. “Will you still love me tomorrow?” Falsetto. Dulce. The frenzy in Living a memory. The refrain. The Bridge. Forte. Fugue-ish, of a sort. Paunk-up, dance on down.
The Sold Outs might just sound to me what the radical sounds of the Fifties and Sixties might have sounded to my parents. Then, Buddy Holly was an extremist, but over 50 years we had largely forgotten why what he did was so good to the past, and great for all of us today, and so important for tomorrows. That was why his music was so enjoyable, then. Now, a band like The Sold Outs, good at what they play, and playing extra pretty special well to each other, give a little spin on that one-time legacy of great music by great artists. We cannot forget our roots. They've just updated the songs, and have fun in back-dated jackets.
posted by Scipio Cepicanus @ 9:40 PM
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