Gothic Theatre
Forget Cassettes
Although there is certainly nothing wrong with being from Nashville—after all it is “Music City, USA”—I can’t help but believe that if Forget Cassettes were to call NYC or some other more cosmopolitan burg home, they’d be already be approaching supernova-like status in the indie world.
Speaking of things exploding and burning, the word for Beth Cameron’s and Doni Schroader’s performance is incendiary, absolute and without doubt. Shockingly belying their cool, calm, almost demure demeanors when they first rolled up to Sin-é (although they had been driving in Holiday traffic all day), the second the first collision of her guitar and his drums crashed, they were transfigured into whirling dervishes of unholy rock majesty.
Looking back over these shots, I realize how peaceful they must appear and just how much of their energy I wasn’t able to capture—quite simply because during the crescendo parts, of which there were quite a few, I literally couldn’t do a thing but fucking gawk like a tourist at the fireworks, or like me at most blonde tourists—that’s how riveting and compelling their set was.
