White Nights

To combat the dreary winter months, Damian Abraham of punk band Fucked Up decided to curate Long Winter, a monthly series of multidisciplinary shows at The Great Hall. On Friday, I went to the 3rd show of this season. The entire space, including the main venue as well as various other rooms in the building had different projects. The Conversation Room had improvised piano, "found" opera, and local indie video games. I tried my hand, rather unsuccessfully, at a music-based racing game called Dyad. There were paintings and art installations throughout the venue. Projected up on the ceiling of the main space was real-time Instagram photos. Off to the side, the installation Light Box had, inside a tin-foil dome, pithy affirmations appeared inside a glowing circle.

The musical acts were just as varied. Maloo (Maylee Todd) started the show on the main stage with some chill electronic songs. As it was still early in the evening, a few children gathered curiously at the front to watch her. In the much smaller Conversation Room, S.H.I.T. screamed their way through a punchy set. I was worried about the vintage piano as a mosh developed. Back in the bigger hall, Lisa Bozikovic vs. Thom Gill had the two musicians trade songs.

At first, people didn't quite know what to make of Light Fires, her dance songs, and 80s dance style. But they were soon won over and a packed dance party developed in the small space. At 10:45 pm on the big stage, Moon King came on to deliver some atmospheric but riff-heavy indie-rock anchored by the lead singer's counter-tenor. The now-full audience was in for a shock when Vag Halen took the stage at 11:30 pm.

Having missed out on their sets at The Silver Dollar and The Piston, both tiny venues, I had envisioned them to be a low-key all-female cover band of 80s rock. But whether it was their stated aim to "reclaim cock rock" for the queer/feminist set, or playing in front of probably their biggest crowd tonight, they brought the sonic power. Playing Van Halen with minor detours (Pixies' Tame, Guns'n'Roses Welcome To The Jungle), they screamed, riffed, soloed, and head-banged through their set matched by an increasingly enthusiastic crowd. The ladies wore standard all-black jeans-and-T of rock dudettes except for the singers. One had on a leather jacket and black masking tape across her breasts. The lead singer didn't even bother with that winking modesty. Clad in a sheer mini-dress, she dared you to take a gander. Without bras, and tiny panties that was also see-through, there was a lot to look at; David Lee Roth and his deep-V jump suit is not even in the same league.