After months of staff anticipation, those oxymoronic epitomes of Classy Trash, A.R.E. Weapons, joined the ever ’80s Trans Am at I/O Lounge last Wednesday. A crowd of 100 Miamians turned up and hopefully left thinking that this mix of untalented originality and ingenious ’80s rock is cause enough for a damn good night of raging.
Following the Movies (we were still out drinking, so we missed them) the Weapons fired through a set that was only seven songs deep, lasting maybe 30 minutes that simply killed and made us laugh. Their music is what it means to be young, energetic, and able to not give one fuck what people think of you. As usual, the reception was chopped into inebriated madness and sober indifference, to which their shirtless front man Brain McPeck countered, “So, you guys aren’t feeling the Weapons, we’re from New York!” (or something like that).
But when all was said and done and “band member” Paul Sevigny had finished his last of 400 fist-pumping to-and-fros on stage, I was still reflecting on the lyrics to “Champion Chains.” While, “Being broke is the fucking worst,” you can always be comforted by the fact that, “I love it when the women start to scream / Life ain’t nothing but a dream.”
Trans Am took the stage soon after and got the crowd to sign a peace agreement for musical taste with their lively, if very technical, ode to the decade of big cell phones, dance floor cheese and Gordon Gekko slickness. It was all girls dancing (two fresh catches next to Hunter were making out in tight, tight wife beaters), guys standing and a pummeling assault of neon goodness. But you were there so you know all these blurry details.