UNCLE ACID and the DEADBEATS at Lee’s Palace, Sunday, September 28. Rating: NN
Seems like ever since Sweden’s Ghost began wowing crowds with their highly theatrical live shows and enigmatic publicity apparatus – nameless members, licensed dildos, etc.- there’s been a piqued interest in this, excuse the oxymoron, lite hard rock. Enter Uncle Acid & the Deadbeats, the shaggy Cambridge band whose throwback rock comes carefully packaged with its own well-tailored aesthetic and set of gimmickry mysteries (stage names, reclusiveness, rumours that they don’t play any gear released after 1971 and that they may be an actual cult).
Live, the band felt suffocated by all that hype and cartoonish filigree. The stage at Lee’s was dim, further shrouding a band who already play draped in their own hair, and appointed with staticy TVs and two big yellow electronic cat eyes flanking the drum set.
Uncle Acid worked though cuts from their back catalogue, focusing on last year’s critically adored Mind Control. They were impressively tight, reflecting hard work put in touring recently (including a cherry spot opening for Black Sabbath on the European leg of their 2013 reunion tour).
But the tightness wound into flatness as the sameness of the band began to reveal itself. There were a few worthy riffs here and there – like on I’ll Cut You Down, the swelling opener of their second record – but the band was bogged down by boring drumming and obnoxious, big dick guitar solos. Guitar solos are great. They’re maybe the best artistic medium, ever. But they should signify something beyond the guitarist’s facility with his instrument, you know?
The short set was pretty much a one-note affair. Packed huddles around the T-shirt and poster table suggest a group that’s got plenty of cool-guy credentials. They just need to jack up their stage show to match. Until then, Uncle Acid’s not much more than a shticky merch-rock band.
