If We are Scientists weren’t playing rock shows, they’d probably be performing bizarre three-person comedy routines and auditioning for college improv troupes, even though they’re not in college. Their shtick? Well, besides the super catchy, pummel-you-in-the- face-with-the-good-times rock ’n’ roll, they’re also fairly hilarious. It isn’t just bassist Chris Cain’s porno ’stache, high-waisted Greg Brady pants, and awesome pair of “rex specs” that he proudly wears to shows. Because really, looks aren’t everything, wouldn’t you agree? It’s more about how the CD cover for With Love and Squalor has the boys holding tabby cats on the cover and insists, inside, that their website “is not your shrink, it’s not your friend, it’s your boss, and you should start treating it like one.” They’ve also put out some truly inane music videos, like the one for “The Great Escape,” which has them being chased by someone in a bear costume. And then there’s their absurd FAQ:
Q: How did you get together?
A: It’s complex and a little embarrassing, but it’s something we can kind of laugh about now, however hesitantly. Michael had this huge crush on Keith; like, huge. And of course Keith had been friends with Chris for a couple of years at this point and had always nursed this gigantic crush of his own toward Chris, but always in secret. Now, Chris had never really thought of Keith as anything more than a friend, a good friend with a great body, so nothing had ever really happened between them, excepting the occasional drunken round of mattress dancing (literally; we’re not using ‘mattress dancing’ as a sexual euphemism, we mean literally dancing — bouncing along to music — on a mattress or a set of adjoining mattresses...”
Last night at the Paradise, W.A.S. were as good for their turn-up-the-radio songs about partying, drinking, and getting the girl as they were for their witty quips and physical displays of sheer muscle. I saw dudes yukking it up hardcore while their girlfriends doted on vaguely cute guitarist/vocalist Keith Murray and sigh-smiled at his little comic tales, probably wondering if his pants were in danger of falling down any further (this guy’s got the skinniest hips I’ve ever seen on a man). Collectively, W.A.S. look like they probably failed high school gym a thousand times over and were rejected by whomever they asked to prom. On stage, though, they’re the fucking quarterback. They’re the head cheerleader in short pleated skirt. They’re the people in your class you wished you could talk to without seeming like a desperate fool.
