In music festivals, as in ketchup, patience is a virtue. Playing the midnight slot of CMW's penultimate night, Brooklyn duo Light Asylum dropped one of the best gigs of the week.
Showing off a penchant for future-goth attire, '80s synths, e-melodies and drum-pad hammering, the band delivered an explosive set for a room stocked with American Apparel models and surprised club-goers.
Singer Shannon Funchess is a dynamo with dynamic, forceful vocals and an all-in approach. A charged atom with a set of drumsticks, she demanded attention throughout.
On "IPC," she was part Fred Schneider, part Fidel Castro, which doesn't sound like the most palatable blend, but bouncy keys smoothed out the mix. Conversely, "A Certain Person" was a bright epic and a startlingly buoyant closer.
Elsewhere, she channelled the usual litany of post-punk and new wave references (i.e., Mark Burgess, Ian Curtis, David Byrne, Bernard Sumner, etc.), yet stayed far away from homage and pastiche. Visceral and grand, it was a stellar outing.
Showing off a penchant for future-goth attire, '80s synths, e-melodies and drum-pad hammering, the band delivered an explosive set for a room stocked with American Apparel models and surprised club-goers.
Singer Shannon Funchess is a dynamo with dynamic, forceful vocals and an all-in approach. A charged atom with a set of drumsticks, she demanded attention throughout.
On "IPC," she was part Fred Schneider, part Fidel Castro, which doesn't sound like the most palatable blend, but bouncy keys smoothed out the mix. Conversely, "A Certain Person" was a bright epic and a startlingly buoyant closer.
Elsewhere, she channelled the usual litany of post-punk and new wave references (i.e., Mark Burgess, Ian Curtis, David Byrne, Bernard Sumner, etc.), yet stayed far away from homage and pastiche. Visceral and grand, it was a stellar outing.
