Wavves makes a splash in Los Angeles

April 15, 2009, at the Echo

By Melissa Bobbitt
Published: April 17th, 2009 | 5:15pm

This is what it must have been like to see Nirvana in its infancy: adolescent, suburban angst frothing under a sea of thrift-store sweatshirts and mangy stripes. Sure, there’s something incredibly “safe” about Nathan Williams’ basement revolution (despite the Red Bull–fueled moshing, a cadre of parents stood akimbo behind the mess; one mother even latched onto her rambunctious son and pulled him out of the pit. What a simultaneous rite of passage and embarrassment for the young man!) Instead of pleas to “Rape Me,” Williams’ punky project, Wavves, proclaims, “Though my dad is not at home, things are good.” Maybe the new revolution in these trying times is optimism through three-chord nirvana.

Ironic that the feel-good romp at the Echo fell on Tax Day. But it seemed that a good chunk of the audience was too young to know what a W2 was anyway. The dank walls of the club felt like a fortress of good cheer, and Wavves’ surf rock served as the bullhorn to drown out ill will. The diminutive Williams, 22, reminded me of another forbearer of musical merriment: Tom DeLonge of Blink-182 (pre–Bono wannabe posturing). Williams, too, hails from San Diego, a city that lies only minutes from the severe violence of Tijuana, Mexico, and yet still maintains a laidback, modest vibe. His art is an effigy to that.

The supporting acts weren’t as snuggly. Fol Chen, led by a fellow who looked like the dog boy from circuses of yore, squealed through pop tantrums and a shuddering cover of Mariah Carey’s “Emotions.” Faring better were the Minneapolis psych rockers Vampire Hands, whose ambient noisemaker Colin Johnson gyrated and slammed on his toms and snares like Will Ferrell in that cowbell “SNL” skit. It was sweaty, unsanitary, but pretty darn infectious.

Afterward, with a Marshall stack towering over Williams and drummer R.W. Ulsh, Wavves blasted through a half-hour set, knowing its audience needed some shut-eye for school the following day. The songs, though somewhat interchangeable, sounded like the supergroup of grunge that never was: Kurt Cobain and Rivers Cuomo toasting over PBRs and swapping stories about their favorite cartoons. Furious down strokes and Brian Wilson–like “ahhhs” inundated the crowd during “So Bored,” and one heckler returned the favor by demanding “Play Pixies!” a good portion of the show. “Yeah, right,” Williams replied as he wrapped up the gig by administering hugs to starry-eyed girls in the front row.

For more photos from this show visit Venus Zine’s Flickr page