by Laura Wasson
To listen to Crash Kings is to enter an aural anti-gravity chamber. It all seems and sounds like pretty familiar rock, but something very important is missing—namely, guitars. Where no-frills, straight-to-the-core rock music is concerned, that’s no small thing. Other bands have and are currently trying this same guitarless format with varying degrees of success (there’s a Brooklyn-based metal outfit keen on melting faces with electrified violins), but it’s hard to imagine any other group doing it quite so convincingly. Or well.
The band is currently on a national tour in support of their latest LP, Dark of the Daylight, and this past Wednesday night they made a stop at Bowery Ballroom, a venue they would later confess they had always hoped to play. After co-headliners Nico Vega wrapped up their strange, theatrical set, the L.A.-based trio—fronted by fedora-sporting piano man Antonio Beliveau—took to the stage to raucous applause.
It was clear from the start that not only was this Wednesday-night crowd hungry for a good show but particularly hungry for this gifted group. They opened with “Six Foot Tall,” a dynamic song that perfectly showcased the considerable talent of every member of the band, from Beliveau’s soaring, Andrew Stockdale-esque vocals and keyboard mastery to the gut-busting bass playing of his brother Michael and the thunderous drumming of Tom Roslak.
Admittedly, I spent the first few songs in a state of confused awe. Not only were Crash Kings commanding the enthusiastic crowd, all of whom seemed to be devoted fans, but they rocked just as hard—if not harder—than any guitar-strapped group I’ve seen lately. The audience sang along to almost every single song, and if they weren’t singing, they were dancing and bopping around.
The set was a well-considered mix of numbers off their latest album as well as their debut, including “You Got Me,” “Hot Fire,” and the particularly apropos “It’s Only Wednesday.” The crowd was so participatory, so with the group from start to finish, that it was hardly a surprise Beliveau took pause to thank everyone more than once.
The only real blight on the evening was when Nico Vega’s clearly drunk guitarist stumbled onto the stage with his be-vested paramour and started “dancing” around. Maybe that was a classic rock-star move, but it felt rude and completely unnecessary—especially since Crash Kings clearly take their work very seriously and pour their hearts and souls into every note. Acting like a drunk fool in front of real talent doesn’t make you cool; it makes you a fool.
I had a chance to catch up with Beliveau after the show, still basking in the post-performance afterglow. As we talked, a slew of eager fans came up asking for pictures and the chance to tell him how much his work and music meant to them. Fans are always happy to meet their idols, but I’ve never seen such an earnest outpouring of appreciation. I had to ask Beliveau if it ever felt weird to have such adulation thrust upon him regularly. He said no. For him, it’s always a privilege to perform, and the fact that he can connect with so many people means the world to him. If only all musicians were so humble.