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Listings are in the opposite order of appearance: headliner is listed at the top, next is the support band(s), and the last band listed is the opener.

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Thursday September 26 2013
 8:30PM doors -- music at 9:00PM ••• 21 AND OVER
The Burning Of Rome‎‎‎‎‎
 showtune pop with horror-themed shock-rock
Giggle Party
 Spazzy Punk/ Pop                   ----Once And Future Band cancelled
B. Hamilton
 blues, shoegaze, bluegaze, indie rock

The Burning Of Rome
Adam Traub
Joe Aguilar
Aimee Jacobs
Keveen Baudouin
Lee Williams
From San Diego, and Los Angeles
"A thrillingly eerie avant-garde seven-piece out of San Diego"
- Performer Magazine

"The perfect mix of goth and dance influences to accompany an Edwardian Ball, with enough organs and dark vocals to satisfy Castlevania fans."
- San Diego City Beat Magazine

"Their musical horizons stretch far beyond the threshold of modern rock. The Burning of Rome is a post-apocolypitic mash-up of meticulous orchestration, electronic manipulation and eccentric experimentation. If Danzig constructed a carnival ride, it'd look something like this."
- 944 Magazine

"The Burning of Rome’s style can not be forced into any known genre without taking shortcuts and over looking its originality. Its dark tones and circus like melodies intermingle into one spontaneous, yet entertaining work of musicianship."
- X1FM

"Gypsy punk, rife with keys, rasping vocals and animated onstage antics."
- Paste Magazine


Giggle Party
Aaron - Guitar & Vocals
Jason- Base & Vocals
Kat- Keyboards & Vocals
Ian- Guitar & Vocals
Brent- Drums & Vocals
Drum Machine- Mother fuckin' beats

We grew out of a weed in a crack in a sidewalk in Deep Ellum and started singing songs to small dogs in each other's apartments. Soon we took the Giggle Party to the streets.

B. Hamilton
Ryan Christopher Parks, Andrew Macy, Bill Crowley
from Oakland

Parks, bassist Andrew Macy, and drummer Bill Crowley met through mutual friends in the band world, and apparently hit it off — partly because they're all a little to the left of the rock-star stereotype. Crowley has a Mohawk and a veiny blue line tattooed along his right forearm; he used to organize social movements back in New England. Macy, who does Internet seminars for a living, looks like a softer version of Robert Plant — meaning he has the Goldilocks hair without the boner pants. When he's not playing in rock bands, he writes poetry. Parks, who is tall and broad-shouldered and wears glasses, tries as hard as possible to live an ALL-CAPS existence — meaning he speaks in a loud bellow, towers over other people in a room, and enjoys heckling. He also likes imitating other people's vocal intonation, to the point that he's often accused of mocking them. In Parks' estimation, that's what makes him a good vocalist.

Beneath these surface-level eccentricities, they're all sane, sensitive guys. The three band members plucked their initial repertoire from a song library that Parks had cadged away since his days leading bands in Anaheim. His dad owned an aerospace machine shop and he used it as a de facto recording studio, because of the echo-chamber sound quality. He remembers sequestering himself there as a teenager, listening to the sound his guitar made as it bounced off the jet engine parts and concrete walls. Parks is a very close listener, but more importantly he's a person who finds deep, visceral pleasure in sound. The machine shop was so integral to his art that he actually referenced it in the name B. Hamilton: Hamilton was the surname of the shop's landlord. "B." could have stood for Parks' original band name, Better Than Better Than Ezra, but he says it's actually "B." for "banana." "Because banana is literally the stupidest goddamn word in the English language," he said dismissively.

Even if you can't decipher the lyrics, the song itself is a monstrous piece of rock 'n' roll. It begins with a sharp guitar chord, which snarls over Crowley's ride cymbal in a web of distortion and feedback. The drums are murky but the beat is tense and fast, and Macey's guitar riffs are as immediately catchy as anything you'd find in the pop music canon. Parks sings in a forceful, mid-range tenor, drawling on the verses and unleashing a loud yowl on all the crescendos.