Review: Bennett Coast in New York City
FROM SUBURBAN BEDROOMS TO NEW YORK CITY - Bennett Coast and his buddies charmed the Bowery Ballroom with earnestness and indie prowess, blurring the lines between a rock show and a coming-of-age film.
Closing the second tour leg for Coast’s Where Are You Going? EP, he and his openers — Tomás Tomás & GFi, and Chris Emond — welcomed a sea of cuffed jeans and yuppies.
Before the lights dimmed and the room quieted, Coast’s set began. In a blue-tinted video, he ran around outside of The Bowery like something’s missing, glancing at the pre-show line forming.
A multimedia artist, he makes and stars in his own music videos and concert visuals. Each song he performed featured its own looping film, with shots reminiscent of his upbringing in a quiet Bay Area neighborhood: liquor stores, parking lot fights, swimming pools, family haircuts and smoke breaks in a grassy backyard. He’s at once himself, genuinely introspective in his early 20s, and a cinematic character, performing for his fans.
In front of the screen, the indie rock trio spun a tight, nostalgic trance. Coast sang pop lines with a smooth, clear voice, lamenting hard love and owning stupid mistakes. With their inner teenagers, the ballroom danced and echoed his words.
Tomás Tomás & GFi jammed ahead of Coast’s set. Spanning the alt-rock spectrum, the band got a little surfy, a little psychedelic, a little garage. Guitarists comprised half of the six-piece band, crafting a cloud of riffs and reverb. Tomás strolled around the stage, grooving and singing to each of his bandmates.
Opening the show, Chris Emond confided in the audience of a few friends and more strangers. He introduced his roommate, Garry, who played synths and guitar beside him. He shouted out his mom and his grandma, who waved from the balcony and prompted cheers. He reflected on The Bowery, grateful to play the same stage as some of his favorite musicians.
The roommates sat on a pair of white plastic folding chairs, bathing the room in sometimes soft, sometimes noisy drones and indie melodies. Emond strummed his acoustic guitar and sang, raspy but soothing, about late nights and loneliness and loss. The stage became an existential dreamstate. Emond mostly played tracks from his debut EP, Oh yea! Dance, boogeyman!
When the duo had to tune, they played pre-programmed more experimental, indietronica tracks. The audience danced more with every new tuning interlude, hollering during the last one. Despite the DIY setup, every moment of Emond’s set held intention.
He took the stage again during Coast’s set, standing at a train station in one of the headliner’s short films.
For the encore, Coast covered The Cure’s “Boys Don’t Cry.” Every act of the night likely relates to that tender tale of boyhood, binding the musicians as they continue to grow and write in their bedrooms.
