“I’m 100 years old today,” said lead singer, Matt Popieluch, after his band, Foreign Born, did their best to sneak on stage Friday at the crowded Rickshaw Stop in San Francisco. If not for his strange announcement, the band might have been mistaken for a couple of stagehands adjusting the equipment. At first I was little bothered by the abruptness of their arrival, but I soon found myself attracted to such arrogance.
The group of four, normal looking dudes breezed through their first two songs at a workmanlike pace, causing many in the crowd to shout in the ears of their neighbors and ask just who these guys were. Even I was reasonably confused as they joked in between sets about being Shitdisco, but had the good sense to realize they were poking fun at the cancellation of the aforementioned group. Above the stage, a projector screen ran some old Karate Kid clips along with some vintage crash-test footage, appealing to those who desired the carnage, as more and more nodded their heads in approval to the tunes pouring out of the loudspeakers.
After ripping into the killer guitar riff of “Into Your Dream,” the third song of their set, Foreign Born answered any lingering identity questions. The sound of Popieluch’s primal scream was more than enough to capture the admiration of any of those remaining who doubted his band’s talent. They had officially won the room as they filled the narrow club with melodic voices and long guitar riffs. Suddenly, I found myself doing less note taking and more band watching.
Moving onto the catchy “Union Hall,” Popieluch and his gang confidently filled the venue with their sound, allowing a few audience members onstage to provide guest vocals for their last song. Realizing the band’s time was up, the collective shoulders of the audience members dropped. Not enough music had been played—perhaps the only flaw in their performance was in the short length of their set. These four Los Angelinos had captured my attention, and I needed more of their songs to appease my tastes.
My thirst for music was finally quenched, as Datarock loudly announced their presence, donning their matching, red-hooded sweat suits. The Norwegian outfit packed the room full of energy for a little more than an hour and wore some serious shades while doing so. At all times during the show, someone was jumping up and down or off the stage, causing a frenzy amongst all those present for this raucous party. As these four guys from Norway came back out for an encore, several folks from the audience joined the crazy dancing onstage, which brought a grin to my face. To me, there’s not a whole lot that’s better than seeing people enjoy themselves.
For more on Foreign Born, click here: www.myspace.com/foreignborn
For more on Datarock, click here: www.myspace.com/datarock
