Both fresh with new albums, Painted Palms dropped their sophomore album Horizons in September and Small Black released Best Blues on October 16th. The two bands, though each with a distinct sound, are a perfect match for a small venue tour.

Admittedly, Small Black has a bigger and more dedicated following, but it’s safe to say that if you like one you will like the other – which proved to be the case last Sunday.

Painted Palms were first on the bill and began their show promptly at 9 p.m. to a half-full bar. Their humble attitude and upbeat opening quickly gathered the audience close to the stage. Horizons is a mesh of ’60s psych-pop, ’80s synths and minimalistic hypnotic vibes, the album overall was a very cohesive piece which is exactly how the show came together – smooth and simple.

After a slight delay Small Black took the stage. Best Blues soaked in a lot of positive criticism when it first dropped and some not so pleasant: “How’s the sound?” inquires Josh Kolenik, “Pretty good for something that got reviewed as emo soft surf huh?”  The crowd keeps on bopping and dancing, no one seems to have notices Kolenik’s bitter outburst.

Small Black have had a pretty tight following since their inception and this album seemed to have not only reinforced their fan base, but expanded it. Their hazy synth-pop is approachable and catchy and if the album is listened throughout, in order, you’ll begin to notice the narrative of the story (the story about the woman in the cover photo).

Live, Small Black are upbeat and engaging; lighting up the audience from the front to the back with small fires. These fans are not going anywhere, no need to hang on to negative reviews.

photos by Eric Shaw

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Painted Palms is a band made for the internet to talk about, down to the aesthetic appeal of their name that’s like a neon flash to the Pavlovian-trained blogger eye to search out and remember. Christopher Prudhomme and Reese Donohue are cousins that make marvelous and noisy harmonies that twist and twirl the vocal and electronic production together to a dizzying effect, similar to other projects that are inspired to explore psychedelic rock through electronic tinkering such as Jagwar Ma or Roosevelt. They have the interest of those with a platform to express it, but what about their flesh-and-blood fans?

Vancouver’s Biltmore is an open-floor plan with booths pushed to the sides, the stage and the dance floor dominating the prime real estate like the pearl inside of an oyster. On popular nights, such as their monthly Ice Cream Social, it is an exciting space to be in, but their live shows can be hit-or-miss, wavering between a sold-out Dum Dum Girls event with everyone packed like sardines to the front to a rootsy band performing to a small, but devoted, audience.

Painted Palms played to a crowd that was engulfed by space. It was the type of night where you could see where every other person in the establishment was at any given time, and it was surprising that the crowd didn’t grow as the hours ticked on. Like the Jagwar Ma show that Quip covered in Vancouver last winter, the crowd was lean despite it being a set worth bobbing to.

Painted Palms came on a little before 11:30 p.m. and played tracks off their debut record, Forever, such as the airy “Here It Comes”, where Prudhomme’s voice was a soft blur, distinguishable still above the sublime din. Both Prudhomme and Donohue sported longer locks that suit them well, even when the longer locks fell across their foreheads. Poised performers, Prudhomme and Donohue were enchanting, swathed underneath the changing colours of the spotlight. It’s always strange to see that your town isn’t making a fuss about a band when close by cities such as Seattle or Portland are chomping at the bit. Painted Palms played a show that missed a mischievous party attitude, but was replaced by the boozy charm of an intimate space.

With exciting tour dates coming up such as a set at Treasure Island Musical Festival in their city, Painted Palms played a show that you could drop in a conversation: “I saw them when no one else did.”

At least in Vancouver.

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The first band, Airiel, graced the stage at 10. Even so, as the crowd grew, this small venue retained its quaint, slightly grimy, underground quality. The sheer size of the stage – I would equate it to the size of a raised platform of a high school theater, maybe even smaller – added to the overall intimate, easygoing feeling of the concert.

Each band set up its own gear, a true testament to the indie venue. Airiel opened the evening’s shows, with loud, moody guitars and plenty of reverb. The vocals were strong and the jeans were skinny. The band is local and received a nice welcome from the crowd. The music bridged an interesting gap between a loud, at times screechy, emo-ish sound and beautiful, layered melodies everyone could groove a bit to. The lead singer’s foppish, Flock of Seagulls-inspired hairdo only added to their appeal.

Next up was Saint Pepsi, aka Ryan DeRobertis. Attired in a Painted Palms merch tee, he unassumingly took the stage and let loose a ridiculously engaging and fun EDM set. He played around with pop and disco tracks in imaginative ways that got the indie/hipster crowd breaking out in their best dance moves. He capped off his gleeful set (he smiled brightly and mouthed lyrics the whole time, in the most endearing way) with a dramatic, “let the bass drop” edit of “Call Me Maybe.” The highlight of the set was standing behind a group of five or six frat-tastic bros who just let it go on the dance floor the entire 45 minute set. When one of them tied his flannel shirt around his shirt for maximum dancing ability, I knew he meant business.

Painted Palms took the stage as the clock neared midnight. Band members (and cousins) Christopher Prudhomme and Reese Donohue quietly took the stage and launched into their groovy, melodious set. The boys and their drummer exuded a definite look: a little ’80s, complete with acid jeans and a jacket any Miami Vice fan would covet. Another interesting comparison came to mind as the girl next to me bellowed, “He looks like weird Al!” referring to Donohue. The band’s very specific look carried over into the general vibe of the concert. Decidedly hip and surprisingly upbeat, the show featured the sound that sets Painted Palms apart: funky pop tracks, flecked with beachy-keen influences, catchy choruses and hippy-dippy flourishes. A serious, yet sincere look possessed Prudhomme and he sang out his hauntingly cool tunes. A set favorite was “Forever,” one of the band’s newer singles.

Painted Palm’s San Francisco background shined through – the collection of psychedelic, sun-soaked melodies proved hypnotic in the context of pint-sized venue. Their energized and passionate demeanor remained even as songs drifted out into meandering interludes at the end of their tunes. With Donohue continually bouncing back and forth to the beat on his keyboard, Prudhomme singing sweetly and a drummer from Chicago rocking out, this offbeat show brimmed with groovy charm. Also, the Empty Bottle is an unpretentious indie dance hall that’s more than worth the trip.

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