Pins Of Light, Hornss, Robbery
January 22, 2016
Elbo Room
San Francisco, CA
Pins Of Light Release the Hounds
A ghastly figure hunches over a button, the fire of his intentions rivaled only by that in his eye. Yes, singular: he has but one eye. (The other was sacrificed –offered if you will- with the carcass of a beached Sea Cow to the harpsichords of the heavens.) And his twig of a digit hovers above a button. The Button. Across which a single word is scrawled: Release. Henceforth something, be it evil, be it good, be it somewhere along the blurred lines in between, will be released into the void that we call existence. Forever to change the way us villagers in the depths live and breathe and…mosh?
This is how I always picture an event that bears the moniker Record Release Party. The wording harkens the Record to the level of the Hounds. Released upon us, you and I and Candice and Mickey and Gunther et cetera, upon which we shall feast our ears until the clouds fall from the sky with too much information (that reminds me, it came with a download card right? My cell phone doesn’t have a disc drive. Go fig).
This is the epicness behind which I attributed the record release party for one of my most anticipated albums of the year(s): Pins of Light’s second album, Home. They’d been struggling with finding the means to get it to the world and were finally able to make it happen. So it happened. And they released the Home at Elbo Room one wonderful night. Candice and I were there, ready to tackle said album into our possession.
Since we tried desperately to be fashionably late, we arrived as the opening band was well within their set. It was, as to be expected, one of those Cheers kind of nights. Many friends littered the audience and we made our rounds as we enjoyed Robbery, a four-piece troupe that had tempo’d charisma, rocking like the waves of a boat. Their lead singer was a girl who sang with her body as much as her voice, creating a whole new energy to the music.
It was dimensional, otherworldly, and it made the whole world feel like a dance routine.
The drinks flowed along, mixing well with the current of camaraderie. Hugs were thrown and kisses caught. It was a wonderful night to be alive, celebrating the introduction of another musical rift, stolen from the mind and offered to the body. The second band started, Hornss, and I thought they sounded great. Sounded. You see, I couldn’t tell what they looked like because a man stood right in front of me, filming the set with his phone.
I’m not a fan of tension and I find my inner struggles, though more painful, easier to bemoan in silence than telling someone that they’re bumming me out. Candice is the Yin to this Yang of mine and she couldn’t give too shits about telling someone they’re being an asshole. It’s one of the millions of things I adore about her.
Thankfully, the tide of the crowd shifted enough for me to cop a gander at Hornss and I enjoyed the second part of their set with comfortable abandon.
Did I mention there were drinks? I did? Well did I mention that I was drinking some of them? Well, inference be gone: I drank me some drinks. A couple turned to a few; a few to an assload. My eyes were blind but they still saw as Pins Of Light took the stage.
The crowd erupted. The record showered upon us in wavelengths and it sounded so good. So fucking good. Candice and I have seen them many mucho times, including at our wedding (another story for another time. Patience, my friend).
Every time we see them, we share a space together, like the whole world has vanished and its just Candice and I, in a beautiful, thoughtless void, holding hands as we cherish their persuasion. Pins Of Light never fails to put all of their hearts into the air when they play and it’s something I feel honored to be able to witness on a regular basis (since they don’t tour much outside of California). And like a fine wine, they have aged well, somehow adding layers to those upon which they already rested.
We got rowdy, some people got weird, but I chalk it up to the freshly released Record-hounds that spiraled around us, nipping at our heels and reminding us again and again that we live in a wonderful city, with wonderful music happening all the time.
I don’t know where you live, but the same is probably true of wherever that is. You just gotta keep you head to the ground and listen for the gnarled entity, his hand poised above the Release button. Some towns hide him better than others, but he’s always there, somewhere. Wait. Do you hear that? [Cue wolf howling.]
The End
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