Worst band name… or best?

Pocahaunted – Glasslands – June 12th (the birthday)

Despite the relatively cool temperature outside, Saturday night’s show at Glasslands was definitely a hot, sweaty mess. Summer has (unofficially) started.

Having never seen Pocahaunted play before, I wasn’t sure what to expect from the west coast group. Their psychedelic freak funk seems oddly capable of both stupefying and energizing. Luckily, it immediately became clear that the five-piece was anything but sleep inducing.

Before I could even take in their sound, I was transfixed by their look. One girl wore a gold sequined top, another wore a long flowing robe of sorts. Then there was the short cheetah-print dress, the shirtless drummer, and the masses of wild hair.


As they played, they danced around on stage like mythical woodland creatures, pausing every now and then as if to strike a pose. I can think of few better venues for Pocahaunted to play than Glasslands. Lining the stage and ceiling are these puffy white 3D creations – it kind of looks like a bunch of white tissue paper that has been sculpted into flower-like buds. Then add to that the decorations the band incorporated – strips of gossamer fabric wrapped around the mic stands and artificial flowers strewn across the stage. It was a regular whimsical wonderland.

For a minute, it doesn’t matter that vocalist Amanda Brown has a husband (or that he’s on stage). All you can focus on are the three women huddled together on the floor, singing and shrieking, their voices blending together indecipherably to create one continuous stream of intoxication. They’re sirens. Part of you wonders if it will destroy you… or make you stronger. Either way, you can’t stop looking.

Here’s a small taste (via SXSW this year):


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"He considered music a liberating force: it liberated him from loneliness, introversion, the dust of the library; it opened the door of his body and allowed his soul to step out into the world to make friends."

- Milan Kundera's The Unbearable Lightness of Being


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