You've heard me bemoan the state of the New York music scene. Even if I haven't expressed my complaints here, you've probably heard me screaming about it from miles away. I complain a lot and I complain loudly. A city that used to be the ultimate bastion of punk rock has been paved over with the day glo paint of EDM and the falsified melancholy of indie pop.
But the rock gods work in mysterious ways. Sometimes, they lead you through the mire of electronic music, like Herculean trials, so that you are worthy of their rewards when you receive them.
After living in the city for three years, searching desperately for my rock and roll Olympus, the gorgons have been slain and the labyrinth has been traversed. I made the right friends and I have been led to Tripping Sirens.
Imagine seeing The Rolling Stones play in a blues club before they became what Keith Richards referred to as a "pop group" touring the world.
Having the opportunity to experience Tripping Sirens now, while they're under the radar but building their sound and their presence, is like being in the Marquee club back in 1962, feeling the vibrations in the air prophesizing a rock revolution.
It's more than just a powerful, bluesy rock sound that likens Tripping Sirens to classic rock icons. They have the same Mick Jagger swing in their hips that makes their presence on stage electric. Not overdone, not pandering, just authentic, earnest performing. In a city decimated after the demise of CBGB, Tripping Sirens are the heroes that Gotham deserves.