An appropriate name for a venue. A San Franciscan hole-in-the-wall expanded in shadow, my first concert in the Bay since March of 2020 welcomed me into a secret service. A sacred offering from two spiritually bonded bands from across world and water: Oakland’s own Fake Fruit opening for London’s Dry Cleaning.
Regarding our local faux fruit vendors, I was excited by Fake Fruit’s latest single “I Am The Car” and was eager to see their live show. The bassist’s last words before starting their set were “Time to get post-punk.” They definitely know their lane, with a precision and drive one wouldn’t expect from a band who debuted this year. A no-nonsense start-up led to an instrumental freak out, and despite singer Hannah D’Amato’s modest admittance that she was just as excited as everyone to see Dry Cleaning, her yelp belted through the chapel like a punked-out preacher’s, and I had to focus on the now rather than the later.
The drummer’s lost jewelry led to “a fun game to play: find the earring with a lot of sentimental value to us!” A frontwoman with pizazz, a flying fake nail couldn’t stop her smirk; these were opportunities to interact with the audience. It’s a sweet sight to see local bands commanding a stage and enjoying their work again.
With a couple of tunes venturing into No wave territory, especially the grinding “Don’t Put It On Me,” the Oakland natives definitely earned their spot on the bill, and were ready to join the crowd to see their partners in abstracted, angular rock.
Florence Shaw seemed to be holding up the show. The last member of Dry Cleaning to arrive, only after soundcheck did she appear, in pajamas, tape recorder in hand. If she has that spark Ms. D’Amato has, she mutes it for contrast against the raucous performances of guitarist Tom Dowse and bassist Lewis Maynard.
Whereas Fake Fruit’s demeanor reminded me of the best backyard bands I’ve seen in Los Angeles, Dry Cleaning definitely seemed foreign, but this might be because of my Californian background. Both definitely fit the reemerging idea of post-punk, but it is interesting how, while being peers, both sides of the Atlantic reflected their separate historical interpretations. Fake Fruit’s edges indexed Talking Heads and other circa ‘77 CBGB performers while Dry Cleaning’s heavy basslines and minimalist approach definitely recalls the machinery of Joy Division. Shaw must know this, and her stage presence was such that the audience cheered when she introduced a shaker during a brisk live rendition of the song that introduced them to me, “Strong Feelings.” All of a sudden the shadows and red tones alleviated, a disco ball spun, and the crowd danced to what I had spent the back half of lockdown jamming to alone.
Seeing a crowd move to “Viking Hair” was surreal. Shaw’s shift from her usual spoken word to sung vocals did not change her face. Besides a characteristic side-stare with a widening of her eyes from time to time, her mask was maintained until the song’s end. An inquiry about llama plushie availability or the hours-long contemplation of whether or not to eat a hot dog was brought up with the same weight as meditations on passion and frustration. Only in between songs were there deadpan responses with a smile from the bed-ready lead singer. The only kink in Shaw’s armor was revealed when the crowd shouted to “turn up the mic.” As someone who knows most of the words to their songs, I hadn’t noticed that if you were hearing these for the first time, Maynard’s bass playing was definitely overpowering Shaw’s vocals. An adjustment allowed the audience to hear more than the “brrh brrh… hello?” of “Conversation.”
“More Big Birds” is a dark horse on Dry Cleaning’s debut album, New Long Leg (2021). Attracted by “Strong Feelings,” I immediately gravitated towards the first six songs, and while I eventually did start listening to “John Wick” and the other tracks on the record’s side B, Track 8 is by far my favorite. The record’s calmest composition, stuttering drums fake you out, and the synth soars, but from a distance. It reminds me of an actual big bird, or a plane, tiny but roaring far above the world. The Beatles’ lone officially released instrumental, “Flying,” uses a similar tone over footage cut from Stanley Kubrick’s Dr. Strangelove (1964), and I wonder if this is a reference or simply ambient influence. The Chapel’s live version roared harder, possibly the night’s best indicator of the power of Dry Cleaning’s driving live machine. The improvised breakdown at the end may have been the most impressive feat. Knowing that the musicians, while masterful in their playing, have definitely played these songs a lot in the past year, deviating from the recorded versions was much appreciated. Saving lead single “Scratchcard Lanyard” for the closer, the show ended with a satisfying, decisive strike.
I may have been hoping for “Tony Speaks” to pop up, but this adventure into post-punk’s present is enough to reassure anyone who’s hoping for rock acts to look follow, here or abroad. Two more big birds. How I love to watch them fly.
Article and photos by Stanley Quiros