Cold War Kids

Show Season, can't stop won't stop.

The Cold War Kids blew the roof off DC9 last night with their LA blend of gospel punk. It was electric.

I wasn't going to go to this show. I mean, you gotta draw the line somewhere, right? Wrong. Peer pressure is a bitch.

Luckily, I had three cups of loose change on my dresser just itching to be dumped into one of those CoinStar Machines. Wednesday night, I walked in to the local Harris Teeter with an ass pile of change, and I walked out with enough cash for a show. At least it's not heroin.

Fiscal irresponsibility and absent backbone notwithstanding, I made the right decision. To see a band on the verge of hugeness play a dive bar cranny is what indie fandom is all about. The Cold War Kids rocked - that's all you gotta say.

The first song might have been the best. Singer Nathan Willet slumped over the mic like a blanket, moaning Son House gospel while Matt Maust thumped a spare bass at field holler tempo. The set picked up from there for an hour and half of bluesy punk wailing.

By far, the highlight was Willet's voice. I tell you what buddy, that man can sang. Whether shrieking Black Crows ballads or rasping Detroit scuzz, his voice muscled its way into indie rock lore.

Do yourself a favor - check these guys out if you haven't already. They're here to stay.