A fluid, insistent guitar style that’s disco at moments and flanged at others, plus a magnetic, over-enunciating frontman? Yes, that’s Nashville’s Sol Cat, a weirdly thrilling smash-up of first-album Franz Ferdinand and fake-tamed Anthony Kiedis. There’s a crowd-pleasing lilt to their rock that skews pop — they may as might have dubbed themselves “Soul Patch” — but the sheer weirdness of the sonics clothing every hook may well endear Sol Cat to both the 12-CD a year punter and the Brooklyn beardo who wishes the Strokes employed more effects pedals in the studio.
Thu., April 24, 10 p.m., 2014
This article from the Village Voice Archive was posted on April 23, 2014