THE PARLOR MOB + Dead Messenger @ Il Motore

By Jessica MacDonald - Marvelous Darkness - 02/28/2009

Il Motore, despite the slightly sketchy location, is well equipped to put on a rather good show. Being fairly new to the concert-going scene, I (yet again) showed up obscenely early, once more misinterpreting “doors open at 8” as “show begins at 8”. Alas. On the bright side, I definitely had the best seat in the house: a front row table all to myself. After waiting for a good hour (and a half), the opening act hit the stage. I had seen their name on the poster outside and wasn’t quite sure what to expect from Dead Messenger. I am a very open-minded individual and was all set for a good ol’ black-metal opening act, but I was surprised that a band with such a bleak name could be so… non-bleak. I get the name. “Don’t shoot the messenger”. Ha ha ha. Well, I’m glad they did shoot the messenger in this case, because apparently a Dead Messenger can rock--something fierce!

Although they had a rather generic rock sound, Dead Messenger rocked the crowd with blazing 1970’s-esque riffs played beautifully on a vintage Les Paul through a sweet Marshal stack. The lead singer was the only member of the group with a distinct look. The lead guitarist, albeit an awesome musician, stood on the stage in rather grungy (and not intentionally grungy) clothing, and the bassist and drummer were plainly attired—not that that necessarily matters in rock n’ roll, but a cohesive look does draw one’s eye more magnetically to the stage. Regardless, their sound was very nice: near perfect balance, except for slightly quiet vocals. A wonderful big, fat fender bass sound rocked the foundation of sweeping 70’s style songs that were thoroughly catchy and easy to sing along to. Their songs were good, they were played well, but they lacked that essential secret ingredient. There was nothing particularly exceptional about this band. The guitarist, by the end, was absolutely drenched in the sweat of his musical passion. Awesome. I suppose that was exceptional.

After a fifteen-or-so minute break, Parlor Mob began to set up on the spacious, bodacious stage. An interesting thing about going to live shows in small venues is that the members of the band are seated amongst the audience, unbeknownst to the waiting crowd. What a surprise it was when that guy who’d been behind me got up on stage. This band had a definite look. They looked like rock stars, which is a good quality in a rock band. Long, Led-Zeppelin/Deep-Purple/Black Sabbath etc. –style hair, the 70’s jeans, the shirts. A tad pretentious perhaps, but the image definitely fit the sound—which I personally loved. Parlor Mob is not a 1970’s cover band, but their songs do sound like they came right out of the mid 70’s, a time when Floyd and Sabbath were rockin’ the sound waves and changing the face of rock and roll. Had they been around forty years ago, I have no doubt that they would have been a highly successful (maybe slightly obscure) progressive rock band.

They were a five-piece group, with two guitarists (neither of whom was truly lead nor rhythm) who shared solos and background chords in perfect balance, a bass player (who never showed his face to my side of the audience (he was rockin’ out facing the drummer the whole time), the aforementioned drummer, and a vocalist who dabbled on the keys and harmonica at appropriate times.

One of the guitarists chose to rock upon a wicked cool Fender Strat (I’m sorry if this particular jargon is cliché—I just can’t help it when discussing matters of the rocking and the rolling.) He looked like Jimmy Page and rarely could his face be seen for it was veiled in a curtain of golden-blond head-banging bangs. The other guitarist (who unfortunately sported an almost emo look) played a Gretsch guitar and, questionable appearance aside, played very well. Together, the guitarists’ sound was akin to that of Deep Purple in Machine Head. There were moments of Brian May in the guitar solos too. I don’t know what sort of bass the bassist played because he had his back to me the entire show, but he certainly was into his music and it showed. A lovely fat (and phat) bass sound (oh, so very Black Sabbath-y) filled out the well-balanced ensemble of instruments. The drummer had wonderful drum-skills, reminiscent of Led Zeppelin, Black Sabbath and Uriah Heep. I will be referencing and comparing this band to many classic 70’s bands. This is a good thing. The last member of the band was the vocalist, who I took to be the keyboardist at the beginning, because he opened the show with a truly groovy prog rock tremolo ditty on the keys, then stepped in front of the microphone and blew me away with that something that makes a band unique: his voice was far from ordinary. Again, I use a comparison, but only because I cannot replicate in words the sound of his voice. It was a combination of Robert Plant, Geddy Lee of Rush (only in range), and even echoed the sweeping powerful pipes of Ian Gillan of Deep Purple at times. Basically, he had the True Voice of Rock and Roll.

The songs tended more towards the blues-rock genre, but occasionally broke out into some drawn-out, long, mellow, chill, prog songs that started slow, low and quiet but built magnificently to marvelous climaxes with the aid of Pink Floyd-y ethereal keys. None of the members overshadowed any of the others. They did truly work together in (brace yourself for a bad pun and cliché) perfect harmony. If you get a chance to see Parlor Mob (assuming) you like 1970’s classic rock, go see them.

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