The stage is unusually dark; the instruments are mere shadowed silhouettes. Dressed head to toe in white, save for the singer clad in an oversized striped poncho, Family Band appears in front of us. With their somber expressions and colorless outfits, they look like they've just come from handing out carnations and soliciting change outside the airport. The stark vocals are serious and pointed, though poorly enunciated and somewhat overshadowed by aggressively-plucked guitar strings. Singer Kim Krans sounds like an amalgam of Sinead O'Connor (though that could just be the haircut) and the Cowboy Junkies' Margo Timmins. The band constructs calm, haunting melodies, but they fail to capture the crowd's interest. With these first introverted songs falling flat, the drummer tries more forceful beats. Nothing helps, though, and the band slinks quietly from the stage. Their sleepy tunes are better suited for a night at home in front of the fire.
Swirling sounds from a drum machine are our introduction to the next band, PVT, who are thankfully much stronger than their predecessors. They are alive and animated, with bass lines that grab hold of us and don't let go. The initial songs are mostly instrumental, but there is sufficient variation to hold my interest. There is something primal to the way they play. We are caught in a purposeful jam session with a clear destination rather than meandering circles. When words do appear, they are monosyllabic bursts. PVT's sound would lend itself well to the soundtrack of a dystopian futuristic film. One of their later songs is much more vocally-driven, and is rich and heartfelt as if it is being delivered directly to each of us. PVT, with their floppy hair and foxy Australian accents, are gone too quickly.
Fog machines spray chemical haze across the stage floor, creating an atmosphere reminiscent of a televised dream sequence. Warpaint begins their set with a playful sultriness that feels like we are watching a slumber party. The eponymous song "Warpaint" offers lovely vocal harmonizing between the two guitarists and the bassist, and pulsing strobe lights make tiny vignettes of their movements. Unlike many of their 90s predecessors, the members of this all-girl band can play their instruments quite well. Vocalist Emily Kokal's delivery of "Stars" is filled with feeling and underlying distress. They have overcome the challenging acoustics at the Wonder Ballroom, and I am in love with the sound of their voices blending. Excessive strobe flashes coincide with more psychedelic sounds in later songs like "Composure." The band begins "Undertow," a clear crowd favorite, and many audience members mouth the lyrics with rapt attention.
Midway through the set, someone shouts a marriage proposal at the band. Layers of vocals build on one another, and the fog machines return, suggesting that "Beetles" may usher in the end of their performance. They follow it with a speed jam that concludes the set, and the band members thank us profusely for coming. The encore brings increased interaction and energy, particularly from bassist Jenny Lee Lindberg, and Warpaint eases into the stage just as the night is ending. They’ve played most of their limited catalog for us tonight, and it's time for them to go. I hate to diminish the band by calling them adorable, but they are. Furthermore, they’re going to be huge.
