HORSE the Band, hilarity incarnate

HtB brings great music, hilarious antics to Denver

If you didn’t get high on 4/20, you should’ve just witnessed HORSE the Band at Denver’s Marquis Theater.

In fact, the guys in HORSE the Band make potheads look like a bunch of 5-year-olds hopped up on high-fructose corn syrup.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, HORSE the Band presented what might be the most brilliant fusion of heavy music and pure showmanship Friday night at the Marquis, 2009 Larimer St. Anytime a metalhead can headbang and fall over in side-splitting laughter is a dream come true, even if those two activities may reek havoc on your back the next day.

HORSE the Band has quietly risen through the ranks of the heavy-music underground, bringing a cogent fusion of hardcore, metal, crappy ’80s synth-pop and old-school Nintendo sounds to the mix. Yes, that’s right – keyboardist Erik, aka Lord Gold, produces sounds you may have heard on that one Kraftwerk album or on your old Kung Fu Nintendo game.

And it’s beautiful. Combine that with the possessed shrieks of vocalist Nathan, aka General Tso Zee Zod, head-spinning riffage and rumbling percussion, and you’ve got quite a potent sound. All sounded sharp and clear, by the way, in the tiny-but-cozy Marquis Theater.

These guys must have attention deficit disorder, as they can manage both thrashy, speedy hardcore guitar work and barrage-like breakdowns in one three-minute song.

And if the music doesn’t get you, the black guy (exactly how vocalist Nathan describes him, mind you) running frantically around the stage playing the triangle in a fried-egg suit will. Tour manager Ed is quite the costume artist – he donned not only the egg costume, but he also found time to change into a pizza costume and a bear costume. Forget more cowbell – every band would be well served to crank up the triangle.

The guys often needed a break from their riotous show – there wasn’t a moment they weren’t flailing, headbanging or jumping around – and that provided more comic relief than Comedy Works could ever muster.

They actually went so far as to create a forest-like setup on stage, complete with shrubbery and stuffed critters. Don’t steal them, vocalist Nathan warns – no matter how badly you want something “small and furry in your life.”

Among Nathan’s other comic gems:

“When my mother was giving birth to me, a lightning bolt struck her in the vagina when I dropped out, giving me the godly powers I have now.”

That simply speaks for itself.

The brilliant show put on by these up-and-comers makes it easy to ignore the other bands who shared the stage, even though it was a great all-around show.

Light This City tore up the stage, particularly vocalist Laura Nichol, who snarls with the ferocity of a thousand demons. Guitarists Steve Hoffman and Brian Forbes didn’t miss a note on their super-technical riffs, either, making for a nice thrashfest before HORSE the Band.

The most memorable moment of the night, though, came as the first song started. About half a dozen “scene kids” – you know, the fruit baskets with more eyeliner than Joan Rivers – tried to “hardcore dance.” Imagine having a seizure, flailing your arms around and basically looking retarded. It lasted for about 10 seconds, as these confused kiddies quickly realized this wasn’t the right kind of music for that. The looks on their faces smacked of a child who just got a lump of coal for Christmas.

Opening act So Many Dynamos aren’t hardly worth mentioning, aside from the fact that they opened the show. Generic, pseudo-progressive indie rock those men wearing girl pants like. Enough said.

Finally, it’s worth mentioning that grindcore act The Number Twelve Looks Like You are utter beasts. A fine blend of spastic, time-change-infused grindcore and jazzy parts that would make John Coltrane weep, these guys play music that is extremely difficult to play. It’s exhausting just to listen to, but they didn’t miss a beat.

Okay, go see HORSE the Band. Now. Even if only to see the guy in the egg costume.

Contact Campus Press editor Greg Schreier at [email protected]