Kermit hangs for his dear and sacred life onto the leg of a taxidermy mountain lion, looking onto the stage and audience in The Raccoon Motel with a gleaming eye. When I walk in, the room is packed and already drenched in sweat along with 2/5th of AJJ howling on a tiny stage. Sean Bonnette’s voice ricocheted off every surface, glasses glinting under warm lights as he warbles through Psychic Warfare and a new song, lamenting everyone in the room as part of one massive societal human centipede. This night was the final night of the whole tour for AJJ and Cursive, with an absurd second-leg schedule meaning everyone had to pull off a full show for 21 nights straight. This final half of the tour featured AJJ as a duo with its only two founding members, guitarist/vocalist Sean Bonnette and bassist Ben Gallaty.
It was surreal to see this band as it was formed 20 years later, still singing through the modern classic The Michael Jordan of Drunk Driving tumbling over into Disposable Everything off their newest record. They chatted with folks between songs, completely just two dudes up on a stage. At one point, a Santa hat was given to Ben Gallaty, who captured the look extremely well. Their sound was sparse with just a guitar and stand-up bass, but they both pulled their notes full to flood into the crowd. AJJ’s most recent record Disposable Everything is definitely an “end of the world” record, nihilistic folk punk in every way AJJ was expected to deliver. They sang through songs about pride, waste, corporations, and the human greed destroying the planet and killing the humanity of what we have left to offer. It’s a change from their earlier discography, which focused through the same semi-nihilism ideas, but from a very personal view. Now, their messages encompass everyone, framed to describe the world at large, and the end of it all. Sean Bonnette’s voice rang out in a fully half-step-off pitch at every point where it mattered, it was a beautiful set. They closed out with a favorite, Big Bird, and the crowd sang and cried along while the final piercing notes of AJJ howled around us.
Room is a generous term to describe The Raccoon Motel venue, a tall but narrow side to the main bar, it’s like Gabe’s upstairs had a wall built halfway lengthwise and shoved a sold out show into the space, people like sardines in a quaint tin. The stage was no different, stickered amps, two guitars, a bass, a firetruck red tambourine, a synth set, a drum kit with the newest Cursive album cover skinned onto the front, and a fucking electric cello sat squished together on a stage that would struggle to fit a mattress, with a massacre of Hy-Vee plastic water bottles scattered around.
That one dude (don’t know his name but remember his voice) who announces these kinds of shows with his crazy impressive yelling stepped on stage to introduce a poet to prelude the Cursive set. A man read out his poem he wrote from emotions seeing Cursive perform when they were last in Iowa, I don’t recall what he said, but his words struck into me that this would be a special show, that could affect us in the same way to be moved into poetry. His words ended, and five people walked on stage, the sixth (Tim Kasher) less walking than bouncing into his spot. 5/6ths of the band was wearing a button-up shirt that night.
This tour formed for the release of the most recent Cursive album, Devourer. Released last year, Devourer is this maniacal end-of-the-world frustration and this idea of the great consumer, an imperialistic devourer that controls our lives, and the very personal imperialism that we find eating away at our own selves. Regaling earthquakes, volcanoes, gasoline advertisements, and self-immolation DIY, and the Cursive protagonist’s own denial of reality as they’re stuck within their own consumptions.
“Happiness is in the devouring. I saw our future, and I want to go back,” Cursive opened the final show of their tour with Consumers. This band has mastered building melodies out of simple riffs for decades, somehow reinventing a blowing heaviness within each pattern. It’s so simple, yet never boring. They continue into The Casualty, another dense melodic tune as the set continues weaving tracks around their full discography from the past 20 years. During a break, Tim Kasher justifies that since this is the last night of their tour, “we have a lot of fucking off to get out of our systems.” As Cursive gets comfortable on the twin-size stage, the singer Tim and cellist Megan Siebe continue to get lost in the throes of their hammering tones. The rest of the band plays incredibly with a much more subdued energy, the others with that desperate gleam of an exhausted runner in their last mile of a month-long marathon.
As the set continued, you could notice a distinct difference in the energy between their older music, and their most recent album. Tracks like The Recluse and Caveman from their younger years were played with a loose recklessness, they felt like a band of 20-somethings playing with lazy exaggeration to cause a scene. That same recklessness became much more intentional, almost a nihilistic abandon during The Avalanche of Our Demise and tracks from Devourer, still filling the hall with the same thundering energy but with a stronger intention.
Cursive continued their unburdening “fucking off” spiral, and the crowd joined right in with them. All around, the vast sprawls of middle-aged dudes in beanies and baseball caps screamed along, a drunk birthday girl and her even drunker friends all dressed in tiaras shoving and shrieking against the rail, before collapsing under the weight of the tallest moshpit I’ve experienced heralding the first thrums of Art is Hard. I’m not exactly one for self-preservation, but even under the intoxicating cello pulls of that tune I’m not fucking about in the midst of eight dudes with perfect elbows swinging into my eye level. Immediately after finishing the song, Tim threw the shot back he had so tenderly carried on stage with him as it became increasingly obvious he was at least reasonably hammered, whipping his ridiculous curtains on his head all around.
Megan Siebe on the cello really pulls Cursive together as a band, the final and fundamental piece that separates them apart from the whole slew of indie-rock bands out there. Seeing her play live was incredible, bridging some gap between classical technique and rock with her skill and intense energy. She also had a wee finger monster stuck onto a knob on her cello, mad respect. I’ve been a huge fan of their music for years, one of the bands that really dragged me into this divorced-dad-indie-rock shithole that we love and adore. Cursive as a band has changed so much, and not at all since their humble Omaha beginnings. It was really lovely to see them at the end of this tour, to really experience how they’ve stayed exactly the same yet changed so much, their fundamental uniqueness staying so consistent yet fresh for the past 20 years. They closed out their main set with From the Hips, with nothing more needing to be said.
Huge thanks to The Raccoon Motel for supporting KRUI, to check out their upcoming events (or to see Kermit hanging off a mountain lion) visit them in downtown Davenport. They’re hosting a record party on New Years Eve. Thanks as well to Marshall Rogers for sharing these lovely photos.