The Cave Singers hit the stage like a beam of light in a dark cave, blasting energy into the crowd with the opening notes of "When the World," the first track from their latest offering Naomi.
After a few songs, frontman Peter Quirk stated, "I'm so happy to be alive right now," and it was more than evident watching him gyrate, arm flap and shake his maracas over the course of the night. He had infectious energy, moving the hiply be-hatted crowd to dance. The soul and groove that runs through their music is a welcome weapon, a part of the arsenal one doesn't expect from a group so heavily tied in with the indie-folk movement.
Even their name, the Cave Singers, conjures up images of hip-looking folk guys with beards and suspenders playing ukeleles in dense forests, singing songs about railroads and blackbirds, but these guys aren't having any of that. These cats play concise, accessible songs that thump and pulse with life. Just check the anthemic stomp of "Summer Light" for proof. The track had the near-capacity crowd clapping their hands high above their heads and swaying like some kind of joy-cult.
A sense of celebration permeated the Cave Singers' entire set and at times that common thread weighed down the music a bit and blended it all together. Songs began to clump together, moving along at what sounded to be the same rhythms time and again. It's a small complaint, because those grooves are no doubt infectious, but repetition can be an enemy in the world of music.
Luckily, by the end of their three-song encore, the band had turned the energy up to maximum levels and sent the crowd home for the night with smiles plastered across their faces.
After a few songs, frontman Peter Quirk stated, "I'm so happy to be alive right now," and it was more than evident watching him gyrate, arm flap and shake his maracas over the course of the night. He had infectious energy, moving the hiply be-hatted crowd to dance. The soul and groove that runs through their music is a welcome weapon, a part of the arsenal one doesn't expect from a group so heavily tied in with the indie-folk movement.
Even their name, the Cave Singers, conjures up images of hip-looking folk guys with beards and suspenders playing ukeleles in dense forests, singing songs about railroads and blackbirds, but these guys aren't having any of that. These cats play concise, accessible songs that thump and pulse with life. Just check the anthemic stomp of "Summer Light" for proof. The track had the near-capacity crowd clapping their hands high above their heads and swaying like some kind of joy-cult.
A sense of celebration permeated the Cave Singers' entire set and at times that common thread weighed down the music a bit and blended it all together. Songs began to clump together, moving along at what sounded to be the same rhythms time and again. It's a small complaint, because those grooves are no doubt infectious, but repetition can be an enemy in the world of music.
Luckily, by the end of their three-song encore, the band had turned the energy up to maximum levels and sent the crowd home for the night with smiles plastered across their faces.