Bomba Estéreo, Bayonics Steam up the Independent
April 19, 2011
@ The Independent
Better than: A sauna with a dress code
The scene on the floor of the Independent as the minutes ticked away to the opening act was a shy ballet of courting and sparking between and among the sexes. Viewed from the balcony above it was all backpacks, baseball caps, and pale light from iPhones glowing on a God's Little Acre of carefully arranged cleavage. The last tickets were gone by the time we arrived just after eight, and the room rapidly crammed to capacity with young and horny clubkids looking midweek-overworked, but game and ready for anything.
Bayonics muscled onto the stage at about nine, its 10 members looking
Romana Machado Bayonics
like the board of directors of a highly solvent ass-moving corporation -- and their hour-long set confirmed that impression. The first thing that happened was that ambient temperatures began to rise, and the second was a conspicuous shedding of clothes and impedimenta by the audience. Inhibitions followed as this half-platoon of local funkateer hip-hoppers gave it all they had. These guys are a welter of every dance music now going, honed to the dignity and polish of a '70s soul act. They smoothly ran a series of audience participation dodges already old when Jackie Wilson was doing them. They were seen off to rattling cheers and the crowd resumed getting friendly with
One drink maximum: I'm a confirmed weedhead, but my photographer is an occasional tosspot and ordered a Cuba Libre -- the house special -- in honor of Fidel Castro. She pronounced it "tasty, but not strong."
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