ARTIST: PALMA VIOLETS
VENUE: The Echo
DATE: Wednesday, April 17 at 10:30pm
DEPARTED THE SHOW FEELING: I just got back from an incredible time warp, and I need another ride.
DISCLAIMER: this review uses a lot of profanity. If you don’t like it… then go to another review. If you’re cool with it, then please fucking proceed.
Originally when I started to write this piece- I really tried to break it down in a “professional” manner. But fuck it. This shit doesn’t need to be professional. I’ll sum up Palma Violets in an exquisite little package for you:
PALMA VIOLETS KICKED MAJOR FUCKING ASS.
These young dudes renewed my faith in pure, delicious, psych-rock. But not the kind of psych tracks that jam on for 10 fucking minutes. No. We’re talking about amazing and petite 3-4 minutes gems that leave you BEGGING for more. Their sound is a beautiful throw back to the late 70’s British punk rock scene (The Clash anyone?) that many of us would kill to have been a part of.
Palma’s energy is so electric that you want to either mosh, crowd surf, or throw your panties at them. Either one would have been totally acceptable. Each member of the group was LIVING for that very moment. A catharsis radiating throughout the entire room.
During the 45 minute set, the enigmatic bassist/vocalist “Chilli” threw his bass and dove into the crowd. His eyes told everything. He needed everyone in the audience just as much as they were yearning for him. Chilli was a significant highlight of the evening. Watching him perform and make sweet love to the adoring fans was not only enjoyable to watch but endearing. Chilli’s vulnerability did not come across as a sign of weakness but rather unadulterated joy. By the encore it was abundantly clear: We were at a Palma Violets party- we better fucking get down.