I’ve been to a few gigs I haven’t reviewed. I was too busy with ____ and a variety of other excuses. You know yourself.
First there was Jogging. There’ll be more about Jogging in a while, but the first gig in question was their album launch in Whelans. I hadn’t heard Jogging before the album popped up on Bandcamp and, having reviewed it for Totally Dublin and been impressed by how many bits of songs were left lodged in my head, I decided to go see them live.
Good plan. I’ve said before on this blog that I have a soft spot for the power trio. Three-piece bands just seem to move in unison better. They have a kind of a symbiotic relationship with each other because each instrument knows its own space and only takes that up, but takes it up totally, because the boundaries are delimited. If that makes sense.
You get that with Jogging. When the guitar is thrashing, the bass is just a bass, but when the guitar is doing something melodic or complicated, the bass can step up into the place where a rhythm guitar would have been. Following the dynamic with Jogging in particular is kind of fun, because they’re patently good musicians, but they’re also doing it for “maximum physical gratification”, as Rick Froberg of Drive Like Jehu once said and I keep repeating. This means sometimes missing the microphone because they’re going too hard at a particular riff. That’s fine. Occupational hazard.
They opened with the first two tracks on the album, the titanic Threadbare and Not Simple, and if there was to be a complaint, it’s that they drop the big bombs first instead of last. Still, between seeing a guy use 8 separate fingers to tap while he sings at the same time, and watching Barry Richter Collective do an archetypal impression of Punk Guy as guest vocalist, it’s not like interest slips.