Local ambient act The Regal Drug was playing when I enter. The brain child of Scott Amore, it was a trio on this evening. Scott played laptop and synths, another musician played guitar and sax, while another played guitar and trumpet. The music was ambient drone, Scott’s table was a tangle of patch cords that looked like a George Clinton wig. The sax guitarist played an electric 12 string with an unusual hand held object that looked like a cordless Norelco. I was told the item was an E-bow, it sends a magnetic pulse to the strings to force the sound. The trumpet too had a Mark Isham feel, almost cinematic. Safe to assume any show with RD will take you on a sonic excursion.
Strawberry Hands is a psychedelic quartet from the Philly area. Lead guitar, drums, bass, and front man on acoustic and vocals. The singer was a big fella with poorly constructed pigtails who explained they almost missed the gig. His car was smashed the previous evening, his dog sitter was awol, and he popped a crown off his tooth. They did seem genuinely happy to play. Often, when we think of psychedelic music, it’s virtuosic noodling punctuated with obtuse lyrics. Pink Floyd had the perfect mix of noodlyrics, while someone like Robyn Hitchcock leans heavier on wordplay. SH followed that lead, with lines like “ogre patina” and “obsidian ax” ( and those were just the ones that started with O). The trap is keeping the listener focused and not checking vocabulary. Strawberry Hands achieves the focus with shock lines like “don’t fucking tell me that the future is good”. Strawberry Hands occupy an interesting niche in the world of psychedelic music.
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