The Fatal Flaw seemed to relish the challenge of competing with the Bruins in a steadily filling bar. The first in a killer triple bill of Boston bands culminating in the revived Sheila Divine, The Fatal Flaw proclaimed themselves just happy to be there. After their first song, Joel Reader remarked, "And that's kind of what we sound like," and you took his point. The Flaw mines a narrow but rich seam of thrumming, brightly-colored pop, shot through with a silvery snide streak somewhere between spunk and Springsteen. Their greatest asset is caveman drummer Jason Seaver and his abusive relationship with his kit. The frequent twirl of his sticks in mid-swing the only respite in a thuggish, Jimmy Chamberlin-type assault.
The Hush Now - another Boston stalwart - come across like Ride fronted by Morissey's younger brother. Or perhaps an American Teenage Fanclub. Like The Flaw, The Hush Now is cut from the same cloth as The Sheila Divine. But singer Noel Kelly doesn't entirely own his voice's slightly ironic swoop and vibrato. To bring their set home, The Hush Now played a holiday song with a fragment of "Jingle Bells" embedded in its heel and lyrics involving mistletoe set to a bossa nova clatter. This is roughly exactly what I think I imagined The Sheila Divine sounded like all the years I never bothered to spin their records.
And then it was time for the main event, the reason Great Scott was sold out and packed to the rafters the night before Thanksgiving. The Sheila Divine have shown signs of life with various reunion shows since their official demise in 2003, but the word is that there is a new album in the works, so this round of reunion shows carry an extra charge. For a recent convert to the cause, it's a good time to come to the church of the Divine.
Opening with some of the biggest tunes off their 11-year-old debut, The New Parade, the band leapt right into the thick of things as Aaron Perrino's disconcertingly fresh face bunched up behind his glasses for the quicksilver switchbacks of "Modern Log" and "Like A Criminal." Perrino's glasses seemed in constant peril as he plunged deeper into the each song with the ever-gathering momentum. In lulls, Perrino found time to push the glasses back up, but in at least a couple of the denser songs the glasses plunged to their doom.
There was some rust to shake off. After "Every Year," Perrino pursed his lips and delivered the verdict: "B minus." Someone yelled back, enthusiastically, "C plus!" Bassist Jim Gilbert leaned in: "You're too kind." Perrino's voice gave out midway through the epic catharsis of "I'm A Believer," but it was hard to hold it against him - these songs, laden with melody, are delivered with a solipsistic, world-ending passion that seems impossible to sustain. Perhaps that explains why The Sheila Divine packed it in at the apparent height of their powers. Whatever the reason, it was good to have them back.
Opportune Moment:
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