If you’re from the Boston area and are familiar with the Eclectic Collective, chances are you leapt at the opportunity to see them perform somewhere besides Harper’s Ferry. This comment is stated in retrospect, as Saturday proved EC fans not only support their 8-headed savior unconditionally - they are at least remotely aware of the all-out nastiness that ensues when a beloved band plays Boston’s premier live music venue. No payola involved here for plugging the Dise; more an honest confession based on track records (sorry, Harper’s).
I arrived at an assumedly reasonable hour with one of the opening acts in mind - Gavin Castleton. The club was a little over half-capacity… and no Gavin. He had already performed. First. I take the time to highlight this because it is yet another small disheartening chapter of an ongoing musical narrative. Castleton performed for years with the Providence-based Gruvis Malt, arguably one of the best groups to emerge from the area in decades. Despite their immense talent and originality, Gruvis has to this day not received their dues, affirming that for anyone with eyes to see (figuratively speaking), clinging to an idealistic notion of justice within the politics of the music business is inconceivable. On a smaller scale, the musical Man was at it again, and the son of a bitch made Gavin play first. Bitter? Damn right I am. I just said “bitch” in a review, and I don’t even swear in reviews, because that shit’s unprofessional.
By the time the Eclectic Collective took stage, the place was packed. EC boasts a hometown crowd as eclectic as the band itself, and there is an energy at their shows that pervades the crowd; the ever-familiar Dionysian intoxication of losing oneself in the moment and - in this case - the music. As soon as an opening sample played through the house speakers, cheers were so loud that the band seemed a bit overwhelmed as they took the stage. The energy barely ceased as the octet ripped through a set spanning their entire catalog, as well as a cover of the Foo Fighters’ “My Hero.” Castleton also joined EC to perform two of his originals. The fantastic collaboration was tainted by the loud hum of drunken outbursts and clinking bottles during a quiet intro to one of Castleton’s songs. With a diverse range of listeners, it comes as no surprise that the wasted college bunch (stereotype) would take the time to talk amongst themselves while others in the crowd (me) strained to listen and appreciate despite the din. Yet once the rhythm kicked in, the masses were again entertained, and picked up right where they left off. Yes, there is a blatant bias here on behalf of my fellow audiophiles; when you have such a deep adoration for music, it’s hard not to become irritated when you attend a show primarily to hear and view the performance but have to endure those who are there for the social environment.
Rants aside, EC is a band that needs to be experienced live. Their most recent release, The Flux, sounds great, but still doesn’t represent the energy of their performance. The crowd rocked out just as hard as the eight on stage. Head-bobbing, jumping, mule-kicking, and (occasionally) falling all contribute to an event that no studio can properly capture. But weaving in a clip of hundreds of people chanting “ONE MORE SONG” at the top of their lungs might be a good place to start…
--Bill Braun
