Published April 11, 2003 in issue #0010 of The Hook

Boa and Vandyke Brown
at the Outback Lodge
Thursday, April 4

BY JAMES D. GRAHAM

"Five dollars, buddy."

"Actually, I'm with The Hook, and I'm going to be reviewing this show."

The bouncer couldn't have been less impressed. "Really? Wow. That's just great. Terrific. Five-dollar cover charge, man."

This threw a wrench in the works. I'd been planning on giving the show a blank slate, but now we'd dragged capitalism into the equation. The question of the evening quickly went from "How was it?" to "Was it really worth five bucks?"

Boa quickly earned dollars number one and two. They're likable on a musical and a personal level, and the size of the Outback suited their intimate, intricate brand of mellow-out rock. It's clear that each of the five members has his own set of influences that push and tug the music, and this eclectic amalgam results in what could have been the bastard progeny of Roger Waters, Mac McCaughan, and G. Love on a good day.

There's talent here, although they get a bit sloppy from time to time and they haven't quite achieved the thickness of texture I'm hungering for when I see three guitars on stage. While they'd be the first to admit that their musicianship hasn't quite made it to the level they (and you) want it to, catch 'em on the up and up, and be continually impressed by their constant maturation.

Dollar number three was well spent on Boa's all-too-brief collaboration with archirappers Weapon X and the Pink Panther (who could forget those words of wisdom, "Yo, chill, take a blunt to the head"?). The Pink Panther's performance (and cunnilingual commentary) were especially inspired that night (and his left hand rarely strayed from his crotch or shirt collar). None too subtle, but it was a hell of a good time, and everyone would've dug some more. I'll even throw down another fifty cents for the freestyle encore.

I want to like Vandyke Brown. I really do. They lay down some thoroughly butt-wiggling grooves, and they're as tight as tight gets without popping. I'd give my final buck-fifty to witness drummer Joey Reed (who looks an awful lot like Tim Robbins) throw down his elegantly complicated beats and watch the band's rhythmic interaction. As a unit, they've got their shit together, and thanks to that, I'd say I broke even on the show.

But here comes the "but." They're glossy, they're polished, they're catchy in a way that tends to drive people a little bit nuts. Their lyrics take a stab at the existential but come out lukewarm in a Collective Soul kind of way, and their style in general... well, it's pretty anonymous. Unabashedly derivative, Vandyke Brown seems best suited for its next two shows: frat parties.

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