Something is amiss at Wonder Ballroom. Whether their equipment is poorly maintained or the high ceiling is detrimental to the room’s acoustics, I’m not sure, but the sound is completely terrible. Unfortunately this is not helping Dum Dum Girls, whose songs are primarily lyrics-driven, and whose lyrics I cannot hear. Though I can’t understand a word, Dum Dum Girls’ performance is tight, and they are lovely to look at – dressed in fantastic coordinating outfits consisting of black hot pants, black tops, and patterned black tights. A video loop composed of black and white photos of faces is projected on the stage area, and is mostly distracting. They play several songs with similar drumbeats, which is the only sound that reverberates clearly enough through the room. Dum Dum Girls’ last song is their best, if only because the beat is sufficiently different to distinguish it from the others. The following day, Dum Dum Girls are forced to drop out of the tour for personal reasons.
After Dum Dum Girls finish, it’s time for their namesakes, The Vaselines. You may not think you know the Vaselines, but you know the Vaselines. They were among Kurt Cobain’s musical fascinations, and Nirvana recorded cover versions of multiple Vaselines songs. It’s safe to assume that much of their audience, particularly here tonight, discovered the band through Kurt Cobain’s influence. Add to that the fact that before the recently issued Sex with an X, the band hasn’t released a new album in 20 years, and this is one hotly-anticipated show. With an air of mystery about them, the Vaselines are one of those bands you have to see before you die, or Rock n Roll Heaven will not let you in.
I am hopeful that the sound problems are a fluke. I’ve wanted to see the Vaselines for years, and will be terribly disappointed if I can’t understand them. The lights go down, but nobody appears for quite some time. Finally, a member of the backing band pokes his head through the curtain and they emerge. Eugene Kelly greets us by joking that because it’s Sunday the band has been to church. They begin their first song, and again the vocals are either far too low or simply not amplified enough to reach the back of the room. I don’t know this song and cannot determine a single word. When it ends, Frances McKee, after whom Frances Bean Cobain is named, complains that the venue has forgotten to turn the heat on and she’s cold, even under the stage lights. She tells us to rub against one another for warmth, which is an excellent lead-in to the next song, “Monsterpussy.” During “I Hate the 80s,” I decide to move as close to the stage as possible to see if the sound improves.
The Vaselines pause between each song to chat with each other and with the audience. At first, it’s adorable, but it wears on us after a while. McKee asks if anyone has ever had an affair, and a sizeable chunk of the audience cheers. On that note, “Sex with an X” begins. The backing band is a little sloppy on this song, but thankfully McKee’s and Kelly’s voices are much easier to hear. “You look so right, you must be wrong for me,” they sing, “let’s do it, let’s do it again.” Like much of their catalog, it’s catchy as hell. They follow this with a familiar classic – one that is likely the first Vaselines song most people heard – “Jesus Wants Me for a Sunbeam.” Audience members know this one by heart, and many sing along. Once it’s over, McKee is distracted by a contingent of yelling hippies and carries out a full-on conversation with one of them. There is such a thing as too much interaction with your fans, but the Vaselines just can’t help being personable. Fortunately McKee snaps out of and the band brings a friend onstage to provide a vital sound effect for the next song. Kelly hands a bicycle horn to the newcomer and cheers ring out through the Wonder Ballroom. We know what’s coming. Sounding like a perverted Glaswegian angel, McKee floats a delightful rendition of “Molly’s Lips” to us, perfectly punctuated by the friend with the bicycle horn.
Next come “Turning it on” and “Bitch,” and McKee takes another break. She says she finds American accents sexy, and asks people to tell her sexy words. She’s not happy with the results, “cheeseburger,” and moves on. Cheeseburgers are plenty sexy, though perhaps not as sexy as this pair of Scottish singers. They play a few more from Sex with an X before diving into “Son of a Gun,” another well-known tune covered by Nirvana, and one of the liveliest of the night. McKee and Kelly exchange the kind of onstage banter that develops when a band has been together this long. During the “Mouth to Mouth” and “Slushy,” two girls dance together in almost choreographed perfection that shows they are completely lost in the experience. The band inquires about whether we’d like to hear old songs or new songs. Does anyone ever say new songs when asked this question? The pre-encore song is loud and boisterous, injecting energy into the chilly room.
When they return, we are treated with “Sex Sux (Amen),” which is a crowd favorite. Like its predecessor, this song is a powerful one and gets the audience moving. The band looks ecstatic, and it’s evident that they the members are doing what they love. It would have been a good one to end on, because the final song comes out a bit muddled. Before walking off the stage, McKee pauses to give her set list to an overjoyed fan and shake every hand she can reach. They seem to truly care about us, and have never forgotten what it’s like to be on the other side of the stage. Dear Vaselines, you are delightful. Please choose a different venue the next time you play Portland. I’ll be a sunbeam for you.
