By Roxie Parker
Photos by Eve Harclerode
Flowers for the Dead, a young grunge three-piece that’s quickly becoming the most exciting band in the District, just released their sophomore album. A distinct and meticulously crafted record, Magnolia further defines the dark but never unpleasant 90s-inspired sound the band tries so hard to cultivate.
On November 30, at their nearly sold out album release show at Songbyrd, they played Magnolia in full, an experience enhanced by their culty aura and well rehearsed showmanship. FFTD’s greatest strength is their immediately obvious aesthetic—an antique creepy lolita vibe, and a sonic juxtaposition of hard guitars and soft vocals. The latter is typical of the band’s grunge influences.
Magnolia is so well-written and professional-sounding that it could be played after Nirvana or The Breeders without anyone noticing, but the band’s devotion to that sound can at times feel stifling. If you like one song, you’ll like them all. However, hearing the album live in FFTD’s immaculately crafted dollhouse, the album’s consistent sound works, elevating a good record to an immersive experience.
Eraser Girl, the first opener, didn’t mesh well with FFTD’s scene, wearing the type of suburban 2000s outfits you might see in the background of Twilight. Though the five piece delivered a full sound and energetic performance, their newness was apparent (the band formed this past summer) and they mostly played covers. Frontwoman Grace Plihal was charmingly nervous, improving her volume and quality of singing throughout the night. Most charming was her insistence that everyone should mosh for their last song, but be sure not to hit her grandma, sitting in the crowd with an oxygen tank. Because it was Thanksgiving weekend, lots of the band members’ families were in the crowd, adding to the celebratory atmosphere.
Following Eraser Girl was Prude, a band of DC mainstays. Fronted by Nick Bairatchnyi of The Obsessives with drummer Ray Brown and bassist Alex Bass, both from Snail Mail, the group delivered sluggish Oasis-style rock. Bairatchnyi has a boyish appeal, almost like a little brother who spends too much time on reddit, combining inane subjects, like Mr. Peanut, with heartfelt pleas in an earnest but tired voice. Between songs he kept up an awkward stream of chatter, complaining about inflation (“Thanks Obama”) and quoting Fred Armisen’s character from Parks and Rec multiple times. On stage, the band’s most notable element was their enthusiastic drummer. Brown smiled throughout the show, keeping the energy up by ad-libbing marching band-esque solos between songs. Though he might have just been trying to drown out Bairatchnyi’s unrecognizable Trump impression (the hands gave it away).
FFTD reset audience expectations with a creepy, distorted poem played over and over: “Dear Gloria / I’m leaving Magnolia / there’s nothing for me here / I’ve been every square inch / and cried every tear / and all that remains / is soaked in the ground / killstar can’t kill me / outgrown, outran, outbound.” The poem played at least ten times, becoming a sort of hypnotic chant. The type you might hear at a cult compound depriving its followers of sleep.
In fact, FFTD’s entire performance had an entrancing, cult-like quality. After the poem, guitarist Jessie Szegö and bassist Ella Buskirk came out in their homemade gauzy gowns, beautiful and slightly disturbing. The stage was arranged to be a lifesize version of the LP cover with stuffy Victorian furniture and children’s toys. A little off message, drummer Ricky “Ten Bears” Martinez sported a guayabera and his classic bolo tie. Behind the band played a loop of technicolor footage taken from cartoons (Alice in Wonderland, Adventure Time) and the “Teeth” music video.
Starting the driving drums and bass of “Magnolia,” Szegö and Buskirk mesmerized the crowd with their gentle swaying before opening up the sound to their signature harmonies. The crowd fixated upon the musicians, unknowingly echoing their every movement. FFTD were clearly well practiced, smoothly transitioning between each song. When transitions took longer—like when Szegö switched between her sunburst Venus and white Mustang—prerecorded fingerpicked cello played. Barely speaking for the first five songs, Buskirk quietly thanked everyone in the audience between “Falling at Your Feet” and “Two of Me.”
Their clearest grunge song “Teeth,” climaxes with Szegö and Buskirk repeatedly moaning “again,” slowly getting louder and more desperate, whipping the crowd into a shared madness. Following was “Open Up,” a slower, simpler song that felt wide and expansive. It was a warm break from the album’s typical heaviness, that sounded particularly sincere live with Szegö and Buskirk soulful “oohs.”
Breaking from their non-stop playing, Szegö and Buskirk huddled in front of the drum kit—Szegö with her acoustic guitar and Buskirk with her cello—to play my favorite song off the album, “Gloria.” Szegö dealt with technical difficulties, communicating with the back of house and briefly breaking the flawless image the band had been curating up to that point. The song was intimate and beautiful, slowly growing from Szegö’s shy vocals and Buskirk’s rich bow movements to an intense, discordant cacophony, where Buskirk broke a bowstring, before winding back down. The performance felt one of a kind, especially since Szegö said they would probably never bring the cello out again (“it’s really hard to transport”).
Returning the acoustic guitar and cello to their respective places, FFTD immediately resumed their dissonant sound of heavy guitar and drums under angelic harmonies. As the intensity built, the crowd followed suit, serene swaying becoming violent rocking. Watching the band so effectively bring the audience back into their enchanted, spooky world was like experiencing every 80’s suburban mom’s worst fear.
In a moment of vulnerability, Martinez came out to Szegö’s mic to thank “each and every one” of their fans and families: “thank you so much, from the bottom of my heart. I really mean it.” With his entire Thanksgiving table in the crowd decked in FFTD gear, Martinez’s outburst of gratitude felt especially unplanned and heartfelt.
The band closed with “In Shadow,” an almost eight minute song that showcased everything FFTD does well: stunning harmonies, complex finger picked guitar and a climax that sneaks up on you. Strange and all-encompassing, it captures the band’s obsessively controlled atmosphere. Over ringing feedback the crowd chanted for more. Proudly watching the frenzy, the band stood washed in their projections like visionary cult leaders, magnetic and slightly off-putting. There was no encore.
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