by Laura Wasson
Pittsburgh, PA – Traveling to another city to see a favorite band is the stuff Woodstock and Monterey Pop Festival dreams are made of. I never really expected to do it, so when the opportunity presented itself, I could hardly refuse. I had never been to Pittsburgh, or Pennsylvania for that matter, and had little in the way of expectations. Except for one. I was going to rock. I was going to see Foxy Shazam.
As recently as January I had never heard of the kinetic sextet. That changed one chilly February night when I traipsed to Irving Plaza for The Darkness and was treated to a rather unexpected surprise: an opening act that commanded as much if not more attention than the headliners. The band was touring with the British glam metalers in support of their third album, The Church of Rock and Roll, which was produced by Darkness frontman Justin Hawkins. It was love at first riff. The high-energy performance whipping the crowd into a frenzy, transporting them to the hallowed halls of truly good rock where St. Jimmy and St. Janis hold court. I became a disciple then and there; my ears still ringing the next day from the sonic baptism.
For the past month the band has been headlining their own tour, The Tabernacle Tour appropriately enough, to sold out venues from the Knitting Factory to the Roxy and everywhere in between. Due to a rather nasty case of pneumonia, the entire middle leg of the tour was rescheduled to the end of April which ended up being convenient for my little jaunt west.
To say that Mr. Small's Funhouse is the perfect venue for Foxy Shazam is a bit of an understatement. The place is an old church. Going to worship at the church of rock and roll in a converted church? How very meta. The space was packed with fans as the smoke machines kicked in and the boys took to the stage. Their opening number, “Welcome to the Church of Rock and Roll” was an aggressive whirlwind of horns (Alex Nauth), bass (Daisy), drums (Aaron McVeigh), guitars (Loren Turner) and keys (Sky White). Lead singer Eric Nally took to the stage in tight striped pants and a sunhat with the top popped off to wimple-like effect. Mass had begun.
Foxy Shazam is in many ways Eric Nally. While the band wouldn’t be quite the same without any of the other lads, Nally is truly singular in his presence. An heir to the throne left too soon by Freddie Mercury, Nally is an unusual sprite, gifted with a voice that can reach to the heavens even as he flips and falls and stomps around stage with all the spirit of an untamed stallion.
The set was a bit shorter since their appearance at the Knitting Factory; the spectre of pneumonia still hovering in the shadows. When they reached “Ghost Animals” a particularly screech-filled scorcher from their first album, Nally eschewed singing altogether. Instead, he mouthed along as the crowd filled in the blanks, acting out a strange rock pantomime still filled with machismo but lacking a bit in noise. It shouldn’t have worked, but it did if for no other reason than this man could make reading the phone book a must-watch experience.
For the brief encore, they opted for the sultry “The Only Way to My Heart”, which somehow makes silly lyrics like “I pissed my pants in an expensive suit” sound like the sexiest thing in the world. Nally hurled himself at the audience not once not twice but three times and by the end of the song he was wearing a cymbal while Nauth dry humped his electric red horn into submission. In a way, the end of the set perfectly embodies everything this band is about. It’s chaotic and transcendent; some strange spell or prayer that by the denouement binds you to them. If you don’t leave humming the songs, you didn’t really pay any attention at all. And everyone knows you’re supposed to pay attention in church.