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The Friggs, Sat., Jan. 31, Tritone
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The Friggs, Sat., Jan. 31, Tritone
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| Too many people wore reds that night. |
“I thought you said you were going to kill yourself.”
I can’t imagine listening to The Friggs at home. On their albums, they come off as a decently-executed tribute band to Bikini Kill, a group that isn’t too exciting in the first place. And, by definition, tribute bands are short on innovation and therefore lack one of the few things that punk rock has going for it — creativity, no matter how base. But I attended The Friggs’ Saturday night show anyway, mostly because it was celebrating the eighth anniversary of Sugar Town.
If you’re not entrenched in the Tritone/post-riot grrl/punk rock scene, you may not know what Sugar Town is. It’s a monthly event that promotes female bands, which was originally hosted by Sara Sherr, M.J. Fine, Lisa Cohen and Maria Tessa Sciarrino. (And just what does “female band” mean, exactly? “It means at least one girl plays in the band, and she’s not just shaking a tambourine,” says Sherr.) Whether or not you’re familiar with Sugar Town, though, you probably know Sherr in at least one of her incarnations. She DJs. She books shows at the Tritone, and booked them in the past at the Balcony at the Troc. She also hosts karaoke and performs in the drag-happy improv group Dumpsta’ Players. And on top of that, she’s got a full-time job at Urban Outfitters in the Navy Yard.
So yeah, a part of me went to see Sherr — to find out what the firecracker was like in person. A short lady with choppy blonde hair and an all-black outfit, Sherr looked like a proud mom on Saturday night. Standing next to Tritone’s front door, she attentively eyed the front stage, then ushered in several fans, and then sang excitedly along to The Friggs. As she hummed, her head bopped furiously up and down, like she was trying very hard to convince you of something. In short, she looked like a fangirl.
If I judged The Friggs solely on their recordings, I’d have no idea why Sherr (along with the crowded room) was so enamored with them. But the band is an entirely different entity live — the tweaked-out joy that The Friggs bring to a room just can’t be translated onto an album. In person, the group’s mash-up of punk rock, Beach Boys riffs and rapid-fire drumming is much tighter, and the intricacy of these musical layers is more apparent. And that’s to say nothing of Palmyra Delran, the singer and guitarist who’s known for her signature black ponytail, which was suspended by two perfectly-placed chopsticks that night. She’s charismatic as hell, and can glide effortlessly from a soft coo to a coarse howl. Plus, she’s funny:
While bandmate Lexi Plumm was wrestling a guitar around her shoulder, Plumm yelled, “I hope a tit doesn’t pop out!”
“You’re wearing too many layers for that!” Delran said.
'Gotta agree with Sherr on this one — I think I'm becoming a fangirl.
The Friggs sound NOTHING like Bikini Kill!
Thanks for the kind words and the open mind. Just a coupla things: I don't do Quizzo, I do karaoke at the Khyber on Mondays (I did fill in once at Rock N Roll High School though). And it's Palmyra DELRAN, even though Dean sounds cool, like she's the third member of Jan and Dean.
Changes made. Thank god for the elasticity of the Internet.
The Friggs palyed on Friday night and I missed 'em? Darwin Christ, why don't you people ever tell me about these things in advance?
That's because they played on a Saturday. Your paper wrote 'em up, Rodney!
why did you call Jezebel "lexy plumm"?
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