This weekend I had a chance to scope out some local music (for free no less!) at one of the more hip locales in my small arts city of small arts cities. Invited out with friends, I even took an exciting risk of storming the door, not flashing ID and sneaking in a beer for a friend who was very much in need. It was a nice subterfuge filled opening to an eventful evening.

The gig opened with The Low Anthem, which was aptly named. They were a very talented trio who played very beautiful Americana inspired folk, but honestly, it wasn’t the kind of music for a swinging Saturday night crowd. Maybe more fitting for a more intimate venue on midweek evening. Regardless of idyllic hypotheticals, the place was packed and sometimes the crowd got a little louder than the Providence based band. I’d like to add that for three people they had a wide variety of instruments incorporated into their set list, this isn’t part of the critique, rather an expansion of the observation. We’re talking clarinet, bass guitar, acoustic guitar, electric guitar, upright bass, electric organ and drums. In the end though, I let go the fact that their song choices weren’t exactly time/crowd appropriate and really enjoyed the music for what it was. Three and a half solid hand claps.

Then came Primate Fiasco. They’re a self proclaimed psychedelic-dixieland band. It says so on their website. But they were awesome, a sight and sound to behold, though they say dixieland, I would like to append the genres of swing and funk to their hyphenated list of descriptors. This five guy act was phenomenal, they knew exactly how to work the crowd and which songs and mash ups would really get the largely twenty-somethings all drunk with the beat and ready to dance. To their enthusiastic dixieland inspired set they added liberal amounts of nostalgic musical inserts; Ray Parker Jr.’s Ghostbusters, Michael Jackson’s Thriller, and The Rolling Stone’s Sympathy for the Devil. It blows my mind a little as to how they masterfully got everything to work together and the result was something awesome. They had two guest players join them at varying points, a lady-friend from the local university who sang a dangerously suggestive blues number and a passing through trumpet playing friend who playfully upstaged Primate Fiasco’s own Nick Borges in a show of good and competitive musicianship. They really brought the house together and really made my night. A final but wordy complement: while ambulating near the more business minded end of New Orleans’ Bourbon Street on a drizzly evening of Mardi Gras, there was an impromptu looking sidewalk dixie-style street band I came across playing wildly. The two groups could have been interchangeable. I do not waiver in my commitment to give the entire act five hand claps. Bravo.