Stumbled in and out of Gothamist's party at White Rabbit a few times and look at what happened. Thanks a lot Gothamist.
Cut Off Your Hands
photo by Nate Dorr
You can usually tell a New Zealand band by the weird hair, long legs, and tight, tapered low-rise jeans they tend to have (and we are referring to the boys). Cut Off Your Hands has all that in spades, right down to the worn-to-shit moccasins, but what sets them apart from all the other Steriogram-clones is a hard-hitting live show worthy of a band whose very name literally commands the audience to mutilate themselves. It’s wild fun, full of jumping and jimmy-legs and after a while you don’t mind the pants so much.
The other thing COYH got going for them is a relentless work ethic. Wednesday saw four, count them, four shows by the Auckland foursome, the first being at 2:15 in the morning and the last at 9 at night. The final show had them actually falling to the stage in a sweaty heap of exhaustion at the end of the set, in a pool of mysterious liquid (the ceiling was leaking).
photo by Sam Horine
It might be hard to find mountains in Brooklyn, but these Brooklynites are mountain men if ever we did see some. Who else can hard rock an electric fiddle and a euphonium? The tiny Gothamist day-stage was hardly large enough to fit the rockness, and the bassist and the euphonist (euphist?) were content to rock the floor.
Note the bassist’s armpit tattoo. Must take some cajones to single out that particular part of your body for decoration.