Que Sera, indeed. DJ Bill Ross on the tables and then one, two, three, four, five, six, seven members dressed to make Harry Nilsson proud and Momma Benz and Lou are manning the whiskey/vodka/poison of choice as the little bird on the wire stumbles a shaky line between that which we know and that which we dare not: love-ecstasy-rock-’n'-roll staring darkness in the face. Falling through the drum kit to look up and realize we are all in this, like or no. Beat is a happening with Wild Toney and sweet bassist J-Boy Puklavetz and rounding through the chords of measured (sometimes) chaos the flawless guitarists Orlando and Kyle, then the lovely and insanely productive Chris Badger on keys and fronting the whole affair is Our Boy Warren Thomas and his soul mate Sara Louise on tambourine. What matter is it that the front man can’t find the front? Dead weight falls into out of and beyond the crowd (concussions were incurred on darling Lady Luck) because when you invoke the name of rock or genius, dead, you’d best behest the members of the living instead. Crystal Antlers take stage with water bottles instead and the difference is audible in their wildly calculated train racing down the percussive tracks to bring you, oh q’est ce que c’est, rock. Crystal Antlers invoke some tight games played before them but never imitate, and this, be sure young darlings, never, ever, disappoint. Just don’t cross, wasted, against traffic out front—you worry Momma Benz.

— Chesney Higgins