False-advertising alert: Margot & the Nuclear So and So's lack people named Margot, not to mention deformed superheroes. What a gyp.
Thursday, June 1, at Club Dada
An aging hipster and a 16-year-old girl stroll through the mall, each absentmindedly enveloped in their respective iPods. They collide. "Hey, watch where you're going," says the hipster, "you got pop sensibilities in my drone-y shoegaze." The 16-year-old girl cocks her head: "Nuh-uh. You got your lame ass shoegaze all up in my infectiously melodic pop!" No need for fisticuffs. They're both right. San Francisco's Film School and Indiana's Margot & the Nuclear So and So's produce a double bill of enjoyable and optimistic mope pop that's sure to satisfy both demographics. Press against the stage and crane your neck skyward as the atmospheric guitar/synth-rock washes over you like a stardust waterfall. Or stand in the back with your arms defiantly crossed as reverb and delay effects pedals are worn to a nub, creating effervescent melodies that meander into your ear canals. Either way, the bands earn "must-see" raves from both corporate trend watchers and jaded indie elitists for a good reason.