"If you're feeling this you're my next victim," front-woman Ann Courtney intones with steely-eyed confidence, assuring the audience of motherfeathers of their submission to the cult.
With their ferocious and enthralling live show, Mother Feather has ignited a wildfire of followers since hitting the New York club scene in 2010.
Epic songs warrant larger-than-life costumes and dance, and a garishly bedazzled Courtney and hype-woman sidekick Lizzie Carena slither, thrust, and high-kick their way through a set that invokes Marc Bolan's cheeky swagger, Bowie's braggadocio, and the howl and shimmy of a "To Bring You My Love"-era PJ Harvey. This is pop cock-rock: anthemic riffs, now-or-never bravado, and tight dance beats bolstered by pop precision and purity of mission. "'Mother Feather' is the muse," says Courtney. "It is the embodiment of your wildest inspiration. Every song is a challenge--to myself and the audience. I want catharsis and I want it now."
New York four-piece Deadbeat Darling is spending time on both sides of the pond. After selling out some of NYC's most prestigious venues over the course of the last 3 years, the band was signed by UK label Spearhavoc Records in March 2011, and promptly whisked away from Brooklyn to record in Wales with Grammy award winning producer Ken Nelson. The album, titled "THE ANGEL'S SHARE", was released in April 2012. With a bit of downtown swagger and post-indie charm, their sound weaves together New York City rock and roll with hints of surf and dub . A native of either extreme, their lifestyle toggles between Brooklyn dive bars and the mise en scene of the West Side's fashion district; their live show is a sweaty barrage of soulful energy and mischievous sway...
Remember how the music was? Before the war? Not that war. The other one. The one we lost. The way the music made us feel. Like we were bristling everywhere. Like we were bursting. That bottomless caroming sound. How it bounced off the walls. How it hovered over us in place, careful as a hummingbird. We listened for the low twang, the hum. We called it drone pop. The whistling. The cool air. Out there in the high winds. Yeah, like that.