Wow. As a writer, I generally would like to use a more flowery and descriptive
word than "wow" to describe an experience that moved me. The
problem is that "wow" is exactly how I felt after hearing the
debut of The Coastal Drag at Williamsburg's Northsix venue.
Dickson established a great rapport with the audience in between songs, casting jokes and reeling in fans as opposed to the shameless self-promotion that so often cheapens the bond between music and listener. Upon finding he had broken a string after the first song, Dickson declared, "I think I just set a new world record for breaking a string." As he quickly re-strung his guitar, he joked, "Watching me do this is probably as painful as watching us play." While the self-inflicted barb was surely tongue in cheek, the audience appreciated his tone of self-deprecation with a show of laughs; it was an earnest comment, even if it could not have been further from the truth. It was next to impossible not to like these guys.
The Drag wrapped their set up with "Paper Snakes", a tuneful burner that recalled the halcyon days of post-punk. I could not stand still as I watched Deeter and Dickson juxtaposed in rock poses; Deeter on his knees delivering distorted gems of guitar solos and Dickson hunched over in front of his amp, conjuring shards of feedback that could have made Thurston Moore drool. They were drowned in a sea of hollers and applause when the set finally ended. The introduction of this Lower East Side foursome to the burgeoning music scene of Williamsburg had been smashing success. And now I would like to introduce them to you: Tyler, Steve, Mary, and Josh (pictured in order). The Coastal Drag. Wow.
[email protected] | September 2001 | Issue 18
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