After a race down University Blvd., cursing myself for being late, I sat anxiously at a traffic light on Colfax. Eventually I rolled past the Lost Lake Lounge, which looked smaller than I had anticipated. I turned off East Colfax and parked on the street next to a used-car dealership.
As I walked into the lounge I was relieved yet disappointed to see that the room was empty and the show hadn’t started. I walked over to a table on the other side of the room. The Lost Lake Lounge is an intimate setting. A third of the room is the stage, a third is a dance floor and the other third is a bar.
A few people were at the bar, and only one man dressed in cow suit with udders had embraced the Halloween spirit. That was until five minutes later when Bloomsday took the stage donned in Shrek ears.
Lead Singer Iris Garrison and guitarist Chris Daley took the stage without their usual partner, lead guitarist Alex Harwood. The combination of Garrison and Harwood forms the two-guitar duo from Brooklyn, “Bloomsday.” Garrison introduced herself and Daley as “Shrek and Shrek,” and immediately began cycling through a set of chord changes. Garrison held down the rhythm with an acoustic, while Daley played subtle leads on a Stratocaster accompanied by a computer drum track. They typically play with a full band, with Daley on the bass.
Bloomsday played their soothing style of indie/alternative rock. Garrison’s vocals ranged from soft and delicate deliveries with gentle acoustic atmosphere’s to intense and passionate cries coupled with powerful strikes of the strings. Daley had the perfect lick to tuck in behind every one of Garrison’s vocal melodies and took somber solo’s in the instrumental sections.
After treating us to six songs, two of which were unreleased, Bloomsday gave thanks to what had now grown to a crowd on the dance floor. Some of my favorite tunes they played were “Phase,” “Jersey Soccer,” and “Voicemail.”
Soon the members of the Mancari band began shuffling around the stage, checking everything twice, twiddling and tuning. The drummer warmed himself up, laying down nice fills to a jazz tune playing over the PA. The band appeared loose and relaxed.
That was until Becca Mancari ran out onto the stage, jumping the band into a controlled mania of pop riffs. Mancari was wearing a cowboy hat with beads hanging down over their face. I wondered if it would be difficult to play wearing a hat like that, and seconds later, Mancari swiped the hat off their head and revealed a smile.
They explained the technical difficulty regarding the hat after the tune and quickly started the band into the second song, another energetic indie pop jaunt. Mancari had a strong tone coming from their jazzmaster, shifting between crunchy distortions to glossy flanger effects. Their energy on stage was electric.
After the second song, Mancari said to the crowd, “I’m so happy right now. I feel like a kid again. We need more child-like energy in the world.”
Mancari began to tell the crowd about their journey to becoming a musician. Originally from Staten Island, NY, they eventually became a teacher in Florida, but always held onto a music dream. In 2012, they decided to make a commitment to music, or else regret never trying. They moved to Nashville, describing the dues of being a broke musician, living life in a shack with no heat and overgrowth coming up through the floorboards for a period of time.
Mancari then played a tune that she said “gave her a break” in Nashville, “Lonely Boy.”
Mancari is now on a west coast tour to debut their third studio album, “Left Hand.” Mancari and the band are in fine form, as they had the innocuous Lost Lake Lounge crackling with distorted energy. Mancari has certainly developed as a performer from her time spent in Nashville; her energy on stage was real.
The rest of the set saw more of their slower-paced songs on the album. Some of my favorites were “Left Hand,” “Eternity” and “I Needed You.” Mancari’s sound is fresh and new, with dreamy soundscapes full of moody colors evoking feelings of sweet melancholia combined with head-bopping post-punk riffs.
As the show came to a close, Mancari told the crowd about the after-party, which everyone was invited to attend—everyone except myself, as the ink from the big X that the hostess drew on the back of both of my hands was still wet.
