There’s nothing better than finding people whom you never tire of being around. They crack the world open and complete a circuit of creative possibility. You find yourself begging for the bars to stay open later, the shows to go on longer, and the yawns to wait patiently in the lungs just so you can talk with them more. And there’s no fault in being an idealist by pushing the fun as far as it’ll go, especially in your 20s and 30s–that limbo stage where we cling to fading quick-recoveries and in-consequences of adolescence, yet daily face the burdensome responsibilities and pressures of adulthood. Retreating to simpler times in a measured and controlled manner is a brilliant way to strike the balance. Gathering twenty or so of your closest or most talented friends and starting a band that plays tongue-in-cheek homages to hyper-sentimental-bordering-on-porn-soundtrack radio favorites of the late '80s (namely 10cc ) is one of those ways.
Gayngs is a ‘"broken-social-scene" of sorts: a revolving door of twenty-some established musicians including members of Bon Iver, P.O.S, Solid Gold, Megafaun, Rosebuds, and Lookbook. I imagine the concept for a soft-rock/sex-pop supergroup came about during one of those long nights of drinking and talking out on the back patio; three friends’ hysterical laughter over one’s dead-on impression of George Michael’s “One More Try” turning into a studio recording of meticulously arranged slow-jams and a nationwide tour. Well, they nailed it. And if listening to their debut album Relayted isn’t enough to drive the point, go see them live. If only to watch Har Mar Superstar (a dead-ringer for Ron Jeremy) dressed in aviators and a white hooded cape sing aforementioned 1988 number-one hit song. I promise it’ll make you do the impassioned eyes-closed, lips-pursed, R&B-head-sway thing ad nauseum. This is sex music. It’ll make you cry ironic tears.
The evening, however, started with a band as small as Gayngs is large, the Portland-based minimal-electro duo White Hinterland. On the surface, they’re up there with Phantogram and the XX: a boy-girl band with slow beats, samples, loop pedals, dimly lit lady vocals, and a Roland Juno D synthesizer. Ridden with re-starts and mishaps, and looking more like front desk receptionists than musicians, I doubt this show was one they were very proud of. But it was a poor representation of their capabilities. Barefooted singer Casey Dienel’s otherwise captivating echo-y vocals were too shrouded in fuzzy beats and synths to really pull us in, and her frequent struggles to sync-up with bandmate Shawn Creeden were distracting. But their recordings are both extensive (two albums and an EP so far) and impressively wide ranging--harkening the sporadic clicks and clangs of Solex, the dream-pop of Beach House, the eclectic story-telling of Bjork, and the delicate quiescence of Laura Gibson (with whom Dienel collaborated with on a gorgeous duet called “Vessels”).
So Gayngs was roughly this: Zack Coulter on keys, three-piece-suit, and aviators, Michael Lewis on one of two saxophones, Brad Cook on bass, Ryan Olson… somewhere, and Adam Hurlburt… somewhere. Getting the names and faces of ten people straight the first time seeing them is a challenge, but the important thing is that they all looked very cool (as is the requirement for all gang members, of course) in their shades, vests, and Blazers, Houston, and Sixers basketball jerseys. They started with “Gaudy Side of Town,” a song that gets 10 out of 10 “sex points” due to the abstract lyrics, sax solos, 69-thrusts-per-minute momentum, and ethereal vocals. Chaney Moon Casselle, the sole female singer, wore a gold sequin dress beneath a Gayngs hoodie, singing backup mostly, but taking the lead in a powerful cover of Sade’s “By Your Side” (album version sung by Justin Vernon of Bon Iver) where she stripped away the cheese and layered on the soul. “Faded High” was next – a step quicker than the rest of their tracks and decidedly less sensual, but a short break from sexy time was absolutely necessary if we were expected to last. And yes, our timely climax coincided with “The Last Prom on Earth,” appropriately the last song of the night, to which we sang along, “This will be our last prom…”
The band said salutations with their signature “Gayng” sign – the double horizontal middle finger (see photo above) and promptly evacuated the stage. Too spent for an encore performance, the crowd adjusted to the bright house lights and slowly trickled outside to smoke recovery cigarettes, wipe lipstick off collars, untwist stockings, and fix makeup smears before heading home. So much for “just friends”; Gayngs are, without a doubt, on their way to shimmying the pants off the entire indie-world.
