AAIEEEEE…the s-s-s-sun, it burns, it burns! We in Seattle aren’t used to that large orange globe in the sky actually radiating beams through windows into our punk rock clubs. That, combined with the smoking ban, could make for a wholesome July Sunday afternoon…except for the nerve of the Funhouse to destroy our self-control with 6 buck pitchers of PBR. It made me so happy I actually went next door and got a Big Mac, because I had to, because it was either that or pass out before sundown.

Needless to say, the S-S-S-Spectres didn’t seem to care whether it was night or day. Must be ‘cus they’re from Brooklyn. I blame the glare of daylight that it took me a few songs to notice that they were all connected by a giant rope, you know, the kind you climbed to the top of the gymnasium when you were a kid. Then another few songs ‘till I noticed the 12-string guitar. OK, a friend pointed these details out to me…again, the aforementioned happy hour fun beer-time.

Back to S-S-S-Spectres. The S-S-S-Six-Finger-Satellite s-s-s-spastic tempos made me reminiscent of Providence noise-art-rock, and that’s-s-s-s a good thing…if one more person tells me they really like Death Cab for Cutie, I think I’ll puke.  S-s-s-so there.

But I digress. The point is, you should go to the Funhouse when it’s sunny out, and feel good about it, and feel good about yourself, and enjoy liking the music you like to like, and not care if maybe you should be home trimming the dandelions. If you had, you wouldn’t have found out what kind of music a band makes when they’re tied together, now would you?