Saturday, 6 p.m.
IT'S A rare treat to see CUSSES twice in one month right at home—lucky for us, they’re wrapping up October with another No Control Festival.
What began as a name for the band’s practice space/all-ages venue has grown into a movement of sorts. After No Control closed its doors on 39th Street, Angel Bond still wanted to be able to honor the show requests that she received.
“It’s about helping people out and hosting shows,” Bond explains of No Control’s new role. “I loved our place and miss it a lot—I really do. A lot of those bands still reach out to us who played there before.
“It’s about bringing people in and the young and local bands, helping them, and meeting,” she says. “It’s about connecting people.”
No Control’s curators have a keen eye for talent on the rise—previous fests included bands that are gaining traction nationally and making the Southeast proud, like Baby Baby (with whom they shared a bill earlier this month), Today the Moon, Tomorrow the Sun.
Saturday’s bill is wonderfully diverse, with an emphasis on regional talent.
Macon’s Madre Padre will appeal to those with a taste for heavy, tight rock with squealing, melodic guitar riffs and dancehall tempos—think Queens of the Stone Age meets Death From Above 1979.
It’s been a couple years since Charlotte’s Grown Up Avenger Stuff played Savannah (you may have seen them at the original No Control space in 2012), but the band’s going strong and is better than ever. Dierdre Kroener’s vocals can shake the floor and ease back and give you goosebumps, and the licks are tough with a dance-pop edge.
As for the home team, let’s hear it for prog-rockers Culture Vulture, the indie shoegaze of Whaleboat, the electro-alt grooves of Brandy & Ryan Koch’s electricparK., the garage-blues of Beneath Trees, the electronic concoctions of Daniel Lynch’s Sunglow, and A.m. Rodriguez’s refreshing take on alt-country (Rodriguez made the Philly exodus with Creepoid this summer, so make sure to give him a warm Hostess City welcome if you haven’t already).
DJ Frost spins between bands—wear comfy shoes, ‘cause the party goes all night.