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Bored of Being Sad: Microwave storms Columbus


Microwave

Emerging fresh from the depths of a local emergency room after a nasty bout with cellulitis, pumped full of antibiotics and adrenaline, I stumbled into The King of Clubs with the fervor of a man resurrected. The promise of sonic salvation awaited within its walls, a lineup of musical misfits ready to whisk me away from the mundanity of antibiotics and infections. And I needed it.


The air hummed with anticipation as I entered the venue, a den of debauchery where the faithful had already gathered in droves. With Microwave and Origami Angel leading the charge, and Heart Attack Man and Carpool Tunnel lurking in the wings, the stage was set for an unforgettable evening of auditory exploration.


 

Carpool Tunnel

Carpool Tunnel

Hailing from the foggy shores of San Francisco's music scene, Carpool Tunnel emerged from the shadows like spectral surf rockers, cloaked in darkness and dripping with anticipation. With a thunderous roar, they launched into their set, a whirlwind of energy and eclectic sounds that danced between old-school crooning and frenetic punk fury.


Yet, as the set progressed, the initial burst of adrenaline mellowed into a steady groove, leaving me yearning for a deeper dive into the sonic abyss. While Carpool Tunnel showed glimpses of brilliance, I left craving a more cohesive journey through their musical landscape. With time, my hope is they find a balance between energy and melody. If they do they will be unstoppable.



 

Heart Attack Man

Heart Attack Man

Ah, the Ohio boys, Heart Attack Man. Masters of chaos and purveyors of punk-rock pandemonium. Bathed in the ethereal glow of stage lights, they descended upon the crowd with the ferocity of a pack of rabid wolves, fitting considering the common imagery used on their merch and albums. Every riff, every beat, reverberated through the air with a primal intensity bordering on divine revelation.


With fists pumping and bodies thrashing, Heart Attack Man delivered a performance for the ages, an assault that left me breathless and begging for more. HAM played the songs you would expect and some that you would not. There was little dialogue between songs, making room for as much music packed into the set as possible. This was the end of the tour, and they were going this hard. A thought crossed my mind; What happens when these boys headline a tour? How hard do they go?


Hard as Hell, I hope.



 

Origami Angel

Origami Angel

Two souls from the nation's capital, armed with a guitar and drum kit, along with a penchant for musical wizardry - Origami Angel shattered my preconceptions with a virtuosic display of progressive prowess. As vocalist/guitarist Ryland's fingers danced across strings drummer Pat Doherty abused the skins, I found myself entranced by a whirlwind of nostalgia and mathematical precision. Songs about Saturday morning cartoons and about wanting something you don't understand hit different from Origami Angel.


With each intricate riff and thunderous drumbeat, Origami Angel transported me to a realm where time stood still and music reigned supreme. Their performance was a revelation, a testament to the power of passion and the boundless potential of the human spirit. I am now a fan, and I can't wait to see what they do next.



 

Microwave

Microwave

Like a cosmic exhalation, Microwave took the stage, transforming The King of Clubs into a psychedelic wonderland of inflatable mushrooms and stoner vibes. Frontman Nathan Hardy's primal screams cut through the air like a sonic scalpel, carving out a space for raw emotion and unfiltered catharsis, something this humble photographer and sometimes writer thinks the world desperately needs more of.


From the depths of their latest opus, "Let's Start Degeneracy," Microwave unleashed a torrent of sonic sorcery that left me spellbound and gasping for air. With each chord and lyric, they reaffirmed their status as musical maestros, capable of transcending the confines of the stage and reaching into the depths of the soul.


As the final notes faded into the night, I was left reeling, my senses overwhelmed and my spirit ablaze with the fire of inspiration. There was an air of love and connection that rested heavy in this crowd. This, dear readers, was more than just a concert—it was a journey into the heart of the human experience, a testament to the power of music to unite, to uplift, and to transform. And for that, I am eternally grateful. Long live Microwave, and long live degeneracy.



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