Broken Dreams Club Video Premiere: “Bastard” from Galore

Photo credit: Marisa Bazan

Anyone who dares sneak a peek at the news these days can understand why a rage room would be a nice place of refuge.

These oases of destruction are designed for people to take out their frustrations by smashing inanimate objects—glass bottles, air conditioners, old computers, you name it—to little bits and pieces. It’s a wonderful way of shoehorning catharsis into anti-social behavior, because, c’mon, everyone deserves to completely fuck something up at some point.

Galore, the great indie rock quartet out of San Francisco, fittingly stopped by a local such establishment recently to film the music video for their terrific new single, “Bastard,” the second release off their upcoming album, “Dirt.” That video is premiering now on Broken Dreams Club.

Like all Galore songs, “Bastard” defies easy convention. It’s lean and unadorned, full of crisp guitar lines and steady rhythm movements, recalling sleek and slender acts like The Feelies or The Clean. But guitarist and singer Griffin Jones’ clear, ringing vocals belie the slacker insouciance of those bands and her earnest delivery adds depth and poignancy to the song’s lyrics of self-loathing. 

Because as one could expect from a song called “Bastard,” the track isn’t exactly an ode to the human spirit. Jones catalogs her various shortcoming in a haltingly reflective manner, highlighted by her declaration that she’s “the bastard of almost everything.”

In their press materials for “Bastard,” the band astutely notes that the song is about, “in so many words, being a fuck up.”

“We’ve all messed up. I try to grow and learn from my mistakes,” Jones said in the release. “Getting older is crazy. You learn that life isn’t a joke. It feels more like a casino, fun but full of calculated risks.”

Those are heavy words of self-realization, but this song isn’t a morose dirge about disappointment. In fact, it’s fun as hell at times, no more so when the whole Galore gang—Griffin, bassist Ava Rosen, guitarist Ainsley Wagoner, and drummer Hannah Smith—jump in together for some inspired group vocals. 

Chanting, “Oh no, not me/What’s that I see/Smoky doorways/Lit windows/Who’s there,” the band sounds defiant and cheeky, evoking New Wave bands of the 80s or the kiss-off anthems of outfits such as The Breeders and Grass Widow (a beloved local act cited by Galore as an inspiration.) 

As evidenced by their highlight reel of smashery, Galore clearly had a great time making the video for “Bastard,” which was directed and edited by Taylor Giffin with camerawork from Juan Urrea. Rosen and Wagoner handled the titles for the video.  

An absolutely dynamic single, “Bastard” will only heighten the anticipation for “Dirt,” Galore’s long-awaited second LP. That effort will be released on July 25 through Speakeasy Studios SF, a San Francisco label managed by longtime musician and local mainstay Alicia Vanden Heuvel.

The late-July date can’t come soon enough, and for those who think that 3 ½ weeks is too long to wait for the new record, we might advise a visit to a rage room for some anxiety relief.

In Photos: Metallica Lights Up Levi’s Stadium

Thrash metal legends Metallica returned to the Bay Area for two headlining shows at Levi’s Stadium in Santa Clara last week, and Broken Dreams Club photographer Aaron Levy-Wolins was there to capture the band’s triumphant performance on June 20.

Oh yeah, nu metal survivors Limp Bizkit also made an appearance.

A gallery of photos is below, all credited to  Levy-Wolins.

In Photos: Panda Bear Brings Pop Bliss to the Chapel

Panda Bear, the recording moniker of Noah Lennox, stopped by the Chapel for two nights of Beach Boys-inspired pop bliss last week. A founding member of the legendary freak folk/avant-garde institute, Animal Collective, Lennox was touring behind the amazing new Panda Bear album, “Sinister Grift.”

Broken Dreams Club photographer Aaron Levy-Wolins was on hand to snap up pictures of the May 20 performance. A gallery of photos is below, all credited to  Levy-Wollins.

In Photos: Model/Actriz and Dove Armitage Deliver Smoky, Steamy Atmospherics At Rickshaw Stop

Broken Dreams Club photographer Aaron Levy-Wolins was on hand Tuesday night to take pictures of the Model/Actriz – Dove Armitage show at the Rickshaw Stop.

Befitting the band’s great new album, “Pirouette,” a blurry collection of noir-ish, late night industrial tracks, the Model/Actriz performance on Tuesday night was a hazy, dimly-lit affair. Dove Armitage’s opening act was similarly drenched in ambience.

A gallery of photos is below, all credited to Levy-Wollins.

Model/Actriz

Model/Actriz

Model/Actriz

Model/Actriz

Model/Actriz

Model/Actriz

Dove Armitage

Dove Armitage

Dove Armitage

Dove Armitage

Soccer Mommy Delivers Predictably Great Performance at the Fillmore

There are few things more reliable than a Soccer Mommy record. 

For the past seven years, Sophia Regina Allison, the brainchild behind Soccer Mommy, has released a series of vulnerable and elegantly crafted indie pop albums. Her 2018 debut album, “Clean,” introduced her as an emotionally raw, lovelorn singer-songwriter. Subsequent Soccer Mommy releases have added more gauze and sonic layering to the barebones, lo-fi offerings of that initial record, but the basic template has remained the same—Allison singing plaintively about heartbreak, loss and self-doubt over fuzzy tunes that recall 90s alternative rock acts such as Hole and Liz Phair. 

On Saturday night at the Fillmore, Allison and her band brought that same dependable energy to a sold-out crowd, the second of her two gigs at the venerable venue as part of her headlining slot for this year’s annual Noise Pop Fest.

Drawing heavily from her celebrated 2024 release, “Evergreen,” Allison performed faithful, emotive versions of her studio albums, blasting through her setlist with the able backing of her four-piece touring band.

Other than a few friendly thank-yous to the receptive Fillmore crowd, Allison kept the stage banter to a minimum, befitting an artist whose priorities always seem to favor substance and productivity over performative, superficial statements.

The crowd reacted warmly to the nine songs Allison performed off “Evergreen,” but perhaps the biggest response came to her set closer, “Your Dog,” the defiant screed against abusive relationships that’s long been a “Clean” favorite.

Following a brief sojourn backstage (very brief—Allison really doesn’t seem to have time for silly theatrics), the band came back for a two-song encore. She closed out her performance with a fiery performance of “Don’t Ask Me,” a powerful shoegaze track from 2022’s acclaimed album, “Sometimes, Forever.”

It was a thrilling end to a predictably great show. We’ve been trained to expect brilliance from Soccer Mommy, and on Saturday night Allison and company more than lived up to that promise.  

Porches provide much-needed reprieve at Bimbo’s

Holy shit did I need this.

After experiencing what can only be generously called a torturous, ruinous, miserable shit-of-a-day watching our country elect a fascist asshole for president, it was safe to say I wasn’t exactly feeling in fighting form on Wednesday night. I felt listless, distraught and generally unmotivated—the couch looked like a good place to park myself for the next four years (if a hermetic cabin in the woods couldn’t be secured.)

Eventually, I decided to get my ass up, because I had tickets to see Porches at Bimbo’s 365 Club. I was thinking that a live music environment filled with like-minded positivity would do me some damn good.

Hooboy, was that the right call.

The creative brainchild of songwriter Aaron Maine, Porches is currently touring behind their stellar 2024 album, “Shirt.” That record—one of the year’s best—represents the latest step in the Porches' evolution, a movement which started as icy, minimalist synth pop but has steadily grown into blown-out rock music that almost borders on grunge.

That full-throated approach was on display at Bimbo’s on Wednesday. Porches—which tours as a tight four piece act—blasted through a series of cuts from “Shirt” to start the show, with all renderings delivered at max volume levels.

Starting with “Rag,” a downhill, dirty punk ditty that recalls “Bleach” era Nirvana, and moving through album highlights like “Bread Believer” and “Itch,” Maine and company offered unapologetically loud forms of relief for the audience, all of whom seemed desperate to scream their lungs out. 

After plowing through most of the songs on the new album, the band detoured for a compelling performance of “rangerover,” a standout track from the 2020 release, “Ricky Music.” Following that, the group closed their opening set with a stirring rendition of “Music,” the closing track on “Shirt” and a paean to the wondrously self-destructive idolatry of rock ‘n’ roll.

For the encore, the band launched into “Sally” at the behest of some fans in the crowd, turning the track into a raucous number that resulted in the first mosh pit of the night. It was the track’s tour debut, leaving Maine to surmise that he “wished we played that song for the first 20 fucking shows of this tour.”

The band then segued into their 2016 classic “Car,” before closing the night with an uproarious version of “Country,” the quiet, hushed ballad from 2018’s album, “The House” that was transformed into a glorious group singalong.

During the performance, Maine mostly shied away from stage banter, eschewing platitudes about healing and coming together in a time of need, which would have felt forced (and hopeless) anyway at this point. He did say that Bimbo’s was his “favorite place he’s ever played,” and randomly blurted out “sex” a few times into the microphone—ostensible non-sequiturs that still felt more cathartic than any meaningless political declarations.

It will be a long four years. Seeing live music will not solve the country’s myriad problems, but it will make the time pass quicker, if only for a night at a time. 

Future Islands’ Fox Theater Show Proves They’re Dynamic As Ever

Nearly two decades into their career, the Baltimore art-pop act Future Islands are probably not surprising anyone at this point. 

Unless you’ve been living under a rock for the past decade, you’re extremely familiar with their legendary, star-turning performance on “Late Show with David Letterman.” The band hasn’t really tinkered with their sound all that much, preferring to stay in their bass-and-synth lane. And Samuel Herring—their growling, gesticulating, wonderfully expressive singer—has remained his endearingly intense self.

That doesn’t mean, however, that Future Islands shows aren’t still thrilling, outrageously fun affairs. On Tuesday night at the Fox Theater, the band proved once again that the Future Islands live experience is a singular event.

Of course, so much of that is attributed to Herring’s wonderfully manic energy. Despite conceding that this voice was feeling a little “husky” (a term he mentioned was also used to describe his wardrobe as a kid), Herring strutted through all his greatest onstage hits, dancing, swaying, fist-pumping, exhorting and generally acting like this performance could very well be his last.

The band is touring behind their fantastic seventh album, “People Who Aren’t There Anymore,” another collection of offbeat, strangely catchy synth pop tunes. The setlist leaned heavily on those numbers, with seven songs coming from the new release. The band also dug deep from their beloved 2010 album, “In Evening Air,” performing five renditions from that record, with each of those tunes sounding as vibrant and moving as they did upon their release 14 years ago.

While the band feels reassuringly comfortable by their connection to one late-night show performance, the notoriety of that event does make every Future Islands show somewhat of a waiting game for “Seasons (Waiting on You).” That’s kind of a bummer, since their entire catalog is so strong (no skips!), but it also makes hearing that song live in concert an utterly thrilling, cathartic experience. 

Because it’s so closely linked to Herring’s performance on Letterman, it can be easy to forget how amazing and transfixing the song is on its own merits. When the band performed “Seasons” deep into their setlist on Tuesday, the crowd exploded in reaction, some clearly responding to seeing Herring at the height of his powers, but others just awed by the soaring nature of the tune. 

Almost as a reminder that the band existed prior to that song, Future Islands returned for an encore that featured “The Tin Man,” a song perhaps equally beloved by the group’s fanbase (I’ve been to more than one Future Islands show with audience members dressed in metallic outfits.)

That song, which set the early standard for the band’s driving, urgent electronica, was a stellar reminder their formula has always been top-notch.

No need to change things now.

Pulp Amaze with Performance for the Ages at Bill Graham

Pulp's first performance in San Francisco in 12 years did not disappoint.

In what could only be charitably deemed as one of the most unredeemable regrets of my life, I missed Pulp performing at the Warfield in 2012. Not only do I consider myself a pretty huge Pulp fan, but I had been absolutely captivated by frontman Jarvis Cocker ever since seeing him perform solo at the Fillmore in 2007.

I cannot process what I was thinking in 2010, but I certainly didn’t believe that Pulp would go on a lengthy hiatus after finishing that tour. 

So, I was forced to wait for them to return to the states. And wait. And wait some more.

Finally—some 12 years after that ill-fated decision, my time in purgatory was over—Pulp came back to San Francisco, performing at the cavernous Bill Graham Civic Auditorium.

They did not disappoint.

A surreal experience, the legendary Brit-poppers blasted through their greatest hits on Monday night, delighting fans (most in their 40s, nearly all outfitted in Modish gear) who were clearly just as eager as me to see the Sheffield band back in America.

The whole show seemed aimed at celebrating this unlikely reunion event, with a set of graphics reeling off Pulp concert statistics just prior to the beginning of the performance. The visual display then capped off by the declaration, “THIS IS WHAT WE DO FOR AN ENCORE.” It was a stirring reminder that this beautiful voyage by Pulp isn’t over yet. 

And then the music started. And it was like the last 12 years never happened.

The band went immediately into their hits, starting off with the lurid, campy anthem “I Spy” from their seminal 1995 album, “Different Class.” That opener warmed the audience up nicely, but the crowd truly went into a frenzy for the ensuing number, “Disco 2000,” quite possibly the finest document of the 90s Britpop era (I say possibly, because of another Pulp song, which we will get to later.)

Throughout the night, Cocker was a mesmerizing, inspiring presence. The old cliché about rock-stars being gone is pretty bogus, particularly since most of the tropes that were long praised were actually indicators for predatory, shitty behavior—but damn, with all that said, Cocker is a ROCK STAR. He absolutely owned the crowd, strutting around the stage with his slinky dance moves, while effortlessly belting out his purring vocals.

The setlist included tracks from a host of Pulp albums, but the band leaned hardest into “Different Class,” playing seven tunes from that record. Pulp got huge crowd reactions from “Babies” and “Do You Remember the First Time,” both enduring numbers from their 1994 release, “His n Hers.” “This is Hardcore”—the controversial title track from their 1998 LP—got a similar response.  

But the songs from “Different Class” felt the most anthemic. Whether it was the sleazy drug ode, ‘Sorted for E's & Wizz,” the ballad “Something’s Changed,” or the sultry “F.E.E.L.I.N.G.C.A.L.L.E.D.L.O.V.E.,” every song performed from “Different Class,” felt as timeless and special now, as they did some 30 years ago. 

And then there’s “Common People.” Cocker’s spot-on take on class warfare and the voyeurs who try to blend in with plain working folk, is one of the best songs ever written (“Disco 2000” isn’t too far away, though.) It was clear that the crowd was anxiously waiting for that number and when Pulp finally played it during their first encore, people started justifiably freaking out. The jittery synth opening, the spiky guitar licks, Cocker’s whispered narrative of a spoiled Greek heiress, the unforgettable chorus—it was all there, just like we remembered. It was glorious, and the 8,000 or so souls gathered at the venue belted out every word to the song.

While “Common People” was the clear highlight of the night, the show didn’t end there. The band returned for a second encore, playing new song “Spike Island,” (does that mean a new Pulp album is coming????) before closing the night with the beloved “Glory Days” from “This is Hardcore.”

The whole show was unforgettable. Maybe Pulp will be back in San Francisco again. But nothing will be able to top the anticipatory experience of finally seeing a band that remained elusive for so long. Pulp is back, which means I finally got to be a part of their world.

Alvvays Embrace the Bigger Stage with Sold-Out Show at the Fox Theater

At some point, Canadian pop-power mavens Alvvays graduated from indie rock cult darlings to full-fledged stars. 

It might have been the glowing Pitchfork review for their wonderful 2022 album, “Blue Rev,” or their relentless tour schedule (they’ve played some 170 shows in the past two years), but whatever the juncture, the band has grown out of their one-time niche market into a well-oiled rock ‘n’ roll machine.

That evolution was on full display Friday night at the Fox Theater in Oakland, where a sold-out crowd snaked around the block to enter the venerable 2,800 capacity venue. That scene marked a far cry from the cozy confines of the Independent, San Francisco’s 400-seat venue that hosted Alvvays back in 2015. Nine years is almost a lifetime for a band to get famous, but plenty of indie rock outfits never elevate beyond the (totally admirable) limits of a venue like the Independent. 

Amazingly, Alvvays’ rise (it can’t quite qualify it as meteoric, but it’s definitely been a steep ascent) is almost completely the result of their staggeringly complete song catalog. Molly Rankin, the leader of the Halifax-based band, is almost criminally low-key, offering hilarious self-deprecating takes on a regular basis while avoiding anything that might remotely resemble aggrandizing self-promotion. The band eschews controversy like most people avoid carbs and after more than a decade of existence, the group members seem somehow nicer than ever.

On Friday night at the Fox, Alvvays let their music do the talking. Rankin occasionally added in a few wry comments, but the band mostly deferred to the songs, which numbered 21 in total—an impressive setlist for a band with only three full-length albums. And even though it’s been nearly two years since the release of “Blue Rev,” the band leaned heavily on that album, with 13 of the songs coming from that record.

In many ways, drawing from that album makes perfect sense for a large venue like the Fox. While it contained all the same hooks as its predecessors, “Blue Rev” is much more muscular and assertive, boasting booming, distorted guitars and volume levels reaching up to 11, while drawing favorable comparisons to My Blood Valentine’s seminal album, “Loveless.” 

Songs like “Easy On Your Own,” “Belinda Says,” and “Pharmacist,” with their waves of feedback-laden guitars, pack an extra wallop and they easily filled the rafters of the cavernous Fox. The band also leaned into their dancier, more experimental numbers such as “Velveteen” and “Pomeranian Spinsters,” providing opportunities for indie kids to bust out some awkward moves.

All those tunes resonated deeply with the audience on Friday, but it would be negligent to mention an Alvvays show without discussing “Archie, Marry Me.” Much like the band, that song has become ubiquitous in recent years, rising to the pantheon of modern day live classics like “All My Friends,” “Dancing On My Own,” and “The Rat.” Hearing nearly 3,000 people belt out the lyrics to that classic ode to matrimonial aspirations is an unforgettable experience. 

While the band rarely closes out their sets with “Archie, Marry Me,” (On Friday, they ended with the janglepop gem, “Next of Kin” from their self-titled debut), it has all the elements of a show-stopper. 

It’s a power-pop song for the ages, and one that illustrates better than ever why Alvvays ever-growing renown could not be more well-earned.