Class was in session last night over at Lost Lake with The Spook School drawing up a fun lesson plan for fans.C=t contributor, Danny de Zayas (From the Hip Photo), ventured for a lesson in the ways of The Spook School.
It’s eight o’clock on a Wednesday night in February and the kids are out in force, gleefully packed elbow to elbow. Colfax Avenue wheezes and whimpers in the cold on Lost Lake’s doorstep but inside at least half of the sold-out crowd seems to have been drawn out expressly to catch a glimpse of The Spook School. The raucous indie-pop quartet has somehow materialized in this small room all the way from Scotland; it’s clear from the first chords that they make the most out of their journey.
Over thirty minutes, the Glaswegians sizzle through a set that leans heavily on their stellar new LP, Could It Be Different? This third LP has found the band expanding the boundaries of their songwriting, both musically and lyrically. The fearlessness of the latter has become a beacon for The Spook School, who often delve into matters of gender and sexual identity over the backdrop of frenetic three-minute confections.
“Here’s another song about being transgender,” Nye tosses off with a wink between songs, eliciting a knowing chuckle from the crowd. It’s funny because it’s true, but it’s no joke. Ballboy bemoaned the girl in the record shop not finding their taste avant-garde enough. Tullycraft waxed sardonic about the pop songs your new boyfriend was too stupid to know. Unlike their forebears, The Spook School applies the same sonic ideas to much more thematically progressive ends. It’s hard to not root them on as they sing their hearts out (and ask the venues they play to rebrand the toilets as gender-neutral bathrooms).
Words aside, the true visceral thrill here is in The Spook School’s performance. They rock out with the giddy intensity of a band who couldn’t be more delighted to cram themselves into a van for two months, driving around someone else’s country, each set of opening chords in front of eager strangers a gift. In particular, drummer Niall McCamley is in love with life for this half hour, brandishing his drumsticks with bravura, hopping off his throne to chat up the crowd in the breath between songs, and savoring a final bow as the last band member to exit stage right.
While their songs undoubtedly serve an emotionally cathartic purpose — coping mechanisms for the pains of being pure at heart –The Spook School’s live show offers a similar release. It’s a portal back to the unadulterated teenage kicks of being moved by music on the merits of its own animalistic power… And don’t the kids just love it?
