The Postmarks at Spaceland – Show Review

Fitting their 50’s style dream-pop infused with swirls of fuzzy psychedelia, I couldn’t think of a more suitable venue for The Postmarks to kick off their tour in celebration of their new album “Memoirs at the End of the World.”

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Although front woman Tim Yehezkely may carry the name of a male, there’s absolutely nothing masculine about her. Taking the stage before her in a tiny white babydoll dress, black boots and a big Alice-in-Wonderland-like black bow in her hair, the petite songstress had infatuated every male in the room with her little girl like presence.

If you’re looking for a performance doused with high energy and any sign of emotion, you will not find that in Yehezkely’s live set. However her band can throw down some pretty mean instrumentals, full of life. Although a bit more harmonious on audio, Yehezkely is very monotone and detached on stage. At times it almost seemed like she was stoned or something. Not saying that it’s a bad thing, but if you’re familiar with The Postmarks, it’s almost like her trademark sound — and it absolutely works.

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At times Yehezkely sang as though she were a four-year-old sharing with you a new song she had learned with her 50’s “doo wop doo wops” and shy persona. It was all very cute and totally worked in her favor. I bet lots of dudes in the audience felt like a total perv or pedophile though!

As for the band, they totally fuckin’ kicked ass. Guitarist, Christopher Moll thrashed out like he was on some crazy hallucinogens, while drummer Jonathan Wilkins banged out some pretty smooth, and mean beats on the drums. As they closed up with their encore, the two jammed out into some chaotic punk rock madness. It was righteous! Adding to the psychedelic fuzz bombs and warped out electro-fits, Jeff Wagner was superb on the keys. A bit under the shadow from the rest, Brian Hill handled some pretty smooth basslines, but like Yehezkely, is very mellow.

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As for the cute and sexy, Yehezkely, I don’t think she really knows how to play the guitar. As I watched her fingers each time she picked up the guitar, I saw all but two chords played with the slowest of motions. Not to mention the poor girl had some major problems during the last minute of their encore getting her guitar to work, (or turn off). Thank goodness Moll and Wilkins diverted our attention with their insane thrash out. My ears were totally fuzzrocked well into the following day’s afternoon.

Would I check them out again? Yep.

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