The XYZ Affair + Locksley + Glint + The London Souls at Santos Party House

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Last night, pretty people gathered at 96 Lafayette, also known as Santos Party House. I know this because I was one of those pretty people. Oh, you know. The venue played host to four bands as well as a camera crew. Which is why I surmised attractive attendees were in such high supply. The space brimmed with hipsters, prepsters and whatever-elsers, but, in this instance, it almost seemed as though the crowd was canned. Real life but better. Ordinary (by New York standards) folk, but close-up-prepared and reminiscent of a casting call for the quintessential groupie, not to mention the ridiculous dancer. It was almost too much.

The purpose for filming remains a mystery, as the website designed to provide explanation announces that content is coming… in September. No matter. We’re ready for our 15 -- or 250, give or take -- minutes of fame. It took some time for the floor to fill out, gorgeous girls and beautiful boys sauntering in at a manageable, albeit drip-drip, pace. At 9 p.m. the first set started featuring Brooklyn indie power-pop rock foursome The XYZ Affair. The second their voices met my eardrums I decided they had to be British. Whoops. The lead singer spoke and I realized my folly. I immediately moved on from my mistake, becoming distracted by a newfound attraction towards the Shit-Break (American Pie reference for those suffering from amnesia) look-alike, more officially recognized as the second guitarist and keyboard/synth operator. Later came to find this guy’s got a girlfriend, or at least a female that latches on to his midsection and indicates it would be best if I kept my distance and left the catfight for another night.

Beyond his winning nerd aesthetic, complete with vest, plaid long-sleeve shirt and black-rimmed glasses, the true talent has got to be the lead singer. This guy seemed unassuming at first, a slender, Gumby-esque gentleman with the eyebrows of Bert and Ernie; those narrow black caterpillars nearly jumped off his forehead. His cartoon character traits begin and end here, his skills overshadowing his fictional look. Biting down hard on his lower lip, the facial expressions he managed to make are 100% rockstar (and not a little bit O-face), save for his exaggerated, give-away grin. Eye contact was impeccable and dance moves were swoon-worthy. I’m telling you, this guy was channeling the late Michael Jackson. No moonwalk, but by god if he didn’t spin, shoulder roll, shuffle side to side, drop to his knees and drench the stage with his sweat. At the end, he put on his wire-rim glasses and threw me and my photog for a loop; “Superman just transformed into Clark Kent!” Neither here nor there, along with their bassist and drummer (the guy with the guns and pierced ears, as I prefer to refer to him), this opener truly ruled, especially with their kick ass track “Sock You in the Face with Love,” and every instance where they broke into four-part harmony. Additionally, it didn’t hurt that some songs sounded brilliantly Beach Boys…

Next on the bill was a Wisconsin-bred pop rock band, Locksley, currently based in New York. These divas took an eternity (or 20 minutes) to start their routine. First thing that came to mind upon hearing them sing was Rod Stewart. You can imagine where my impression is headed from here, no? Be that as it may, these guys possess significant commercial appeal, perhaps why it’s not surprising that their songs have actually appeared in, you guessed it, commercials! MTV and Rolling Stone had positive things to say, but, to my mind, I could take them or leave them. Check please! With their bowler hat-boasting (and, later, throwing), Jonas Brother-looking lead singer, dressed in tight-rolled black jeans, white socks and black shoes (ahem, that’s all you need to know), the bronzed, pretty-boy second-guitarist with the aptly placed tat and their equally trying-too-hard-to-look-the-part bassist, I need not comment on the percussionist (least offensive of his poser posse), these dudes proved four insecure and confused peas in a pod. Sorry to fans of the band, but I tell it how I see it.

Their sound is the stuff of bubblegum chomping middle school girls, gathering ’round their locker to flip through the latest issue of Teen Beat. And this sentiment was cemented long before I witnessed the lead singer straddle (Heimlich maneuver-style) the second guitarist. Really? Perhaps most cruel, they loved, for lack of a better term, being “sucked off;” by this I mean, they practically begged on hands and knees for us to shout their name. By their 18th (give or take) time encouraging audience response, the lead singer introduced the last song with, “Once again, we are –“ and, rightly so, this stale Mad Lib was met with dead silence. The kids have charisma, a certain marketable charm, and undeniably a way with the ladies (not suitable for children over – or under – the age of 14), but all-in-all their audibly dull tunes left me, and anyone else with an ounce of discerning taste, yawning. At least they made some booties move. Bottom line: I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re offered their very own reality TV show. Locksley of Love, anyone? My overarching opinion? Plucked directly from my reporter pad: “This isn’t natural.” Or maybe I just wasn’t intoxicated enough. Cruel, huh? And this is coming from a fellow Wisconsinite. And thus I betray my kind…

Glint took the stage around 11 p.m., just minutes after the generic calamity. This is what I was waiting for. I was more than ready to nurse my ears back to health with some (self-proclaimed by band in their bio) electro-art-rock. My second time seeing them, in 2½ weeks (they last rocked out at The Annex on June 25th, a.k.a. the day MJ died…), and the boys brought their A-game once again. Their presentation this time was somewhat less intense, not as dramatic and theatrical on behalf of lead singer Jase Blankfort; lights were brighter and not as far-out and spacey-seeming, which made for a more inviting show, and probably reached a wider audience, perfect for their limelight line-up. They were, however, the first to utilize flashing lights in time to the music, which was a welcome atmospheric detail that added to the already engaging delivery.

With his pouf of a bouffant atop his head, Blankfort commanded the room, his liberal, interpretive-art-type movements (think bear-attack stance, as well as yoga’s child’s pose) checked only by his buttoned-to-collar top. One or two undone might have helped him seem a little more rocker, but this band’s gifts can’t be masked despite their fashion sensibilities. His stink faces were off the charts, his skin more akin to clay in its malleability, lips curling, eyes popping, neck veins bulging as he belted out cosmic rock songs, sung from the gut of a man with a knack for emotive vocals. Bassist Dave Johnsen held his guitar close, in a somewhat hunched position, his fingers curled like bird talons, strumming his strings alongside our main man. Alon Leventon worked the two-tiered synthesizer system stage left and drummer Mateus Tebaldi made magic happen from the back. Their two best songs were the first and last of eight, “Kernel Panic” and “Double Vision,” respectively. The latter had everyone dancing and even featured a strictly instrumental segment that seemingly went on forever. I wish I’d timed it.

My single complaint pertaining to the gloriousness that is Glint? Both the manager and the set list indicated they would bless us with their premiere number, “Boy of the Stars,” a gorgeous track that was sorely missed at their previous performance. (Visit MySpace immediately.) My heart dropped twice last night, and this frustrating realization triggered one of the two occurrences. Not fair. And now they’re off to tour overseas until the end of August and probably won’t grace our fine city with their presence until, at the earliest, October. Sigh. At least their EP came out on iTunes yesterday and officially releases on the 22nd. It might tide me over, but how about a full length? Following their departure, this girl had to head home to bed – er, to write – by a decent time, in turn foregoing the last band, The London Souls. That’s all, folks!

Photos by Duran Rose