That said, it should also be noted that, upon taking control of One-Night Stand, I nearly wet myself at the very first show I stumbled in to cover. And while I may have a spotty record with bladder control, my near-loss of fluid was not brought on by the usual means (excessive tickling, excessive inebriation, etc.), but rather, the pure joy of watching the Lights crash through their set. It was, quite simply, fucking amazing.
The Lights are Craig Chambers (guitar/vocals), Jeff Albertson (bass/vocals), and P. J. Rogalski (drums), and their music, if a pigeonhole is needed, is like a mash of Pavement, Modest Mouse, and Jon Spencer--only, you know, not really. Loud, energetic, and recklessly creative (despite being shackled with the standard guitar-bass-drums scenario), their set, which was hideously brief, stunned me from the outset, and forced Stranger photographer Annie Marie and I to gush at them like giddy schoolgirls while they tried to break down their equipment.
Being of the relentlessly jaded sort, pleasant surprises don't often muscle their way into my bean. The Lights' show offered two: their performance, and the fact that said performance took place at Larry's in Pioneer Square. Maybe Larry's has a new booker, or maybe I'm just a dunderhead, but I had always associated the club with the type of music I normally detest (i.e., bad blues). The Lights opened my eyes (please note I avoided the obvious pun--even if I only replaced it with a lame cliché), and thanks to their show, not to mention this here stupid column, a new club may be added to my tiny, blinded repertoire.
(And I don't usually gush like a giddy schoolgirl--nor do anything else like a giddy schoolgirl--though I can't vouch for Annie Marie. But she seems like the type.)