by Spencer McGuire
Let their apparent age not betray ideas of their setlist; Room 9 appears just as comfortable with covering Grateful Dead as they are with Blink-182. Unfortunately, “comfortable” is about as interesting as it gets.
The Foundry is not at all a large venue, nor does it feel like it needs to be. The handful of tables all provide a more-or-less unimpeded view of the action onstage. The light and sound guys (“techs,” as they’re properly known) were were actually what I noticed first, given that they’re situated right in front of the front door. My own time in light and sound work has since conditioned me to always wonder where they’re hiding. In this case, no problem, they’re as much a part of the audience as anyone else is. The doors are on the same plane as the stage, with a lowered pit (also featuring table seating) down front and a conveniently located bar off to the left. Don’t let that fool you though; youngins' are welcome, and so is adorably precious dancing to Tommy Tutone’s classic "8675-309."
But I get ahead of myself. It’s obvious that Room 9 is comfortable onstage, with no jitters, no awkward moment to tune, no clanging of a slipped and dropped guitar. They instead just launched into Jimi Hendrix’s "All Along The Watchtower," eager to show that were comfortable taking on hits, especially those known for things like exceptional guitar performance. And to their credit, their collective instrumentals sounded rock solid; however, it wasn’t all roses. Again, The Foundry is not a large venue, so while I never felt him dragging or missing a beat, Ryan Cowman on drums could have scaled it back a bit. There was no way to know for sure if the speakers were actually playing that track, but it seemed odd to me to mic the drums in a space like that. Conversely, the keyboard was lacking, though of course those are not direct reflections on the performers themselves.
While I may have my minor gripes about the sound guy’s balancing, the staff as a whole at The Foundry were great. The light guy’s timing especially gets a shout out for pulling the lights right as a song ended, sitting back down at his console to do so maybe a second or two immediately prior. The only bad part of ticketing out front was feeling the adhesive on my entrance wristband partially stick to my arm. The table’s shared order of fried pickles (a solid choice) came out quickly and was appreciated by all.
Excellent snacks, tasty as they may be, don’t overshadow Room 9’s unusual-at-the-very-least musical choices. Making the decision to cover "Bohemian Rhapsody" is a ballsy move to start with, but the transition midway through into Pink Floyd’s "Another Brick In The Wall" is a unique listening experience I would prefer not to experience again. I don’t know that I’ve ever heard a more spirited rendition of Eric Clapton’s "Layla," nor a less nasally "All The Small Things." At the end of the day, though, it was all a very safe vocal performance. Some people might like their covers with a dash of the performer’s own style, but here, it all ran together into the lead vocalist’s default singing voice. It really was just comfortable; nothing extravagant, just lyrics the way he’d naturally belt them.
All this said, the performance was a great choice for the setting. Nobody was there to belt out The Allman Brothers Band’s "Rambling Man" along with the band. For many, it seems fair to believe the objective of the night was to hang out with friends, grab something off the menu, kick back and enjoy the unyielding Athens staple of live music. This, Room 9 and The Foundry accomplished just fine.
This being said, a brief note to lead vocalist Dillon Smith about something I doubt anyone else in the room even blinked at and that of course he has astronomical odds of ever reading.
Dillon, I recognize that it’s an easy mistake to make, and I admit to doing so before too. I’ve had years of theater to drill it into my head, and clearly you’re more accomplished onstage than I am. I even looked it up just now to be sure. But I am begging you for future reference; if you’re onstage and gesture to your right as “stage left,” please go find a stage tech and say you’re sorry.
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