Review: .357 Lover @ Late Night Cabaret at The Painted Bride Art Center, 9/12, 2:45 a.m.

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Review: .357 Lover @ Late Night Cabaret at The Painted Bride Art Center, 9/12, 2:45 a.m.

POSTED: Tuesday, September 15, 2009, 3:06 PM

Filed Under: Music Show

Photos by Brion Shreffler

Time Cop, oh dear Time Cop Combining the lighter elements of Meatloaf, Ben Folds, and Elton John with two-handed metal horns rawk is .357 Lover, led by Corn Mo (vocals/keyboards). Two songs on the night are strictly Iron Maiden send-ups that are gleefully respectful of the metal legends ' with requisite and well employed shrieking ' while being wholly irrelevant in regard to everything else. On one of them, Hava Nagila Monster, there's Maiden style expository verses that dramatically build to a repetition of 'Hava Na, Hava Na, Hava Na,' before lead singer Corn Mo unleashes a high, curling 'Gila Monster,' his face growing improbably more metal with each ensuing guttural utterance of 'Monster' that he carries on in echo. On 'Time Cop,' a simultaneous ode and meditation, Jean Claude Van Damme's character from the titular film is beseeched to help him because he can't 'afford the expensive worm holes,' following a shift in composition that, as with their predecessors, peppers many of their tunes. The song contains both atmospheric building and soft whimsical piano work by Corn Mo with an interlude ' 'Time Cop, oh dear Time Cop' ' that briefly transitions into hilarious children's sing-along territory shortly before the intercession of a thundering rush of guitar chords.

Like the straight faced banter, the music ' whether soft piano pieces, a grandiose homage to the most histrionic of Meatloaf tracks, or metal laced tracks combining all elements ' pulls you in, carrying you along with the silliness as you're being beseeched to enter Corn Mo's world, with gems like, 'German lady paper bag special,' sung in falsetto on the chorus of a song about a hitchhiking old woman who gave him and his brother candy while they sat squished together along the backseat of the family station wagon. At such times, the well plied notes from the piano, in conjunction with expert vocals and accompaniments, seem to be a transitory element, as you're taken by whatever premise the song contains, laughing your ass off along the way.

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Featuring everything from event roundups to concert reviews and sex talk, City Paper's Critical Mass is a space for off-the-wall coverage of Philly's A&E scene.

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