No, not a bunch of stetson wearing Tennessee-ans drinking whiskey out of boots, but rather the annual Jack Daniels-sponsored nationwide gigfest, which hopes to unearth some of the country’s nascent rock 'n' roll talent. The JD Set was holed up in Dolan’s for the night, where the four native bands on offer were hoping to provide some succour for a crowd sodden by the god-awful April showers.
First up were Idle Hands who, despite being last year’s winners, were landed the unenviable task of opening in front of a sober, static and spread-eagled crowd. The guys purged themselves of any indignation with some emo guitar pop and crunching West Coast punk-lite. The statuesque and taciturn frontman Adam Hourigan exhibited some trademark angst while the lyrics detailed the trouble with seeing through your fringe and other such emo ephemera. It all sounded a bit too much like the soundtrack to your ‘troubled’ teenage sister’s slumber party. Until they delivered this wonderfully catchy finale with ‘Fall To Life’- a mini-pops version of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs’ ‘Maps’ – and made a silk purse out of a pig’s ear of a set.
Next on the chopping block were Vice City, atrocious, but almost deliberately, so as to make you think it was all a cunning ruse on their behalf. It was a throwback to mindless garage rock of the 60s, when guys couldn’t really play their instruments but gave it a go anyways. Lyrics consisted of inane doggerel – routine stuff about ‘getting her’, ‘put it in you’ ‘Saturday night, yeah’ - repeated almost mantra-like until a wonky time signature change and a closing verse. The crowd treated them with contempt, barely applauding or acknowledging their presence. Their diminutive singer made the best shout out ever - ‘Go on Centra’, presumably to his soused work colleagues down the back - and as a swansong the bass player flung his instrument off the stage in a marvellous fit of pique.
As music goes it was ragged and roughshod, but as a performance it was endearing, and far more interesting than the cut and paste heavy rock of closing band Secret Police, who battered the crowd into submission with a way too loud set of Nirvana knock-offs. Plodding on the same angsty treadmill as a million others, they lacked definition and subtlety, relying instead on dull, ‘goes to 11’ shock and awe. The aural equivalent of being repeatedly bashed in the head with a wrecking ball. Probably what they wanted.
Seneca stood out, a tight indie-rock outfit that mixed up Doves-y waves of sound with the perpetual motion of Arcade Fire and a soupcon of psych-pop. They built up a blistering head of steam, but then undid all their good work with a wholly unnecessary cover of ‘Miserlou’. The set stalled and never regained its momentum. Shame.
In the end, Idle Hands were named the winners, possibly on the strength of ‘Fall To Life’ on its own. The Limerick JD Set may have been a mostly sobering experience, but it had a dash of class.