For their final encore, they dragged out “Blockbuster,” a mean-spirited tale of violent reprisal from their debut EP, Pure. As the insistent bass line throbbed in tandem with the pounding of Mac McNeilly’s drums, Yow wiggled his ratty jeans down to just above obscenity level and wrapped his T-shirt over his head à la Beavis transforming into Cornholio. He struck a pose that was as goofball as it was Olympian. Meanwhile, the music badgered on in its dark majesty, and I was struck by their balance of the silly, the profound, and the profane, all of it stomped into utter oblivion with a mixture of precision and abandon. As they lurched into “Dancing Naked Ladies” to close the night, I once again found myself hoisting a portion of Yow into the air. Amid the chaos and the clamor, I felt a little sad — not that the show was over, but that this might have been our last chance to carry this sweaty maniac above our heads.
: Live Reviews
, Paradise Rock Club, David Yow, David Yow, More