As the crowd thickened, workers at Beer City Music Hall set up handfuls of dolls around the stage: a Raggedy Ann and a jack-in-the-box positioned under an intentionally crooked lampshade; Sally from “The Nightmare Before Christmas” perched against a speaker. A white guitar with buttons glued al l over it sat near the middle of the stage, while ornate gold frames hung on the stage’s sides. Dutifully watching over the scene was a large image of the distressed (or maybe intensely amused) purple creature with bangs and a red polka-dotted bow that is featured on Wednesday’s newest album, “Bleeds.” Gouge Away, a Florida hardcore punk band, had just left the stage. Their opening act established them as mature musicians and performers, with lead singer Chistina Michelle’s artful screaming raising the energy of the Saturday night crowd. While Gouge Away’s discography strays from my usual sonic rotation, it was impossible to not feed off of the band’s evident enjoyment of playing with each other. In the interim between sets, more mid-twenties and early thirty-year-olds filtered into the sold-out venue. A sea of camo hats stiffened as friend groups attempted to maintain the territory they fought for. As per the usual pre-concert shuffle, the lights started to dim, the band walked onstage, and the crowd buzzed with excitement. Without a word, Wednesday launched into the first song on their sixth album, “Bleeds.” The band began with a steady beat and the restrained hums of guitars before diving into the heavier, more confident instrumental of “Reality TV Argument Bleeds.” “Pickin’ the ticks off of you,” sang Karly Hartzman, as the guitarists briefly melted back into the restrained playing. Hartzman writes all of the songs for the North Carolina alt-country-rock band. Her lyrics, unique in their ability to capture the strange and often beautiful emotions found in life’s mundane and slightly grotesque moments, have separated Wednesday from most of their rock and country counterparts. After a cacophony of sound and a three song tour of three albums, Hartzman addressed the crowd for the first time. “I don’t know why it took us so long to come here,” she said, calmly. “Thank you for coming out, even though we’ve forsaken you.” Throughout the show, the band maintained a cool yet genuine demeanor. Spyder Pugh — the guitarist replacing recent indie-rock sensation MJ Lenderman on the band’s tours — wore what looked like gas station sunglasses for the entire set, adding to the strange yet oddly comforting props populating the stage. For Wednesday, finding comfort in the strange is often the point. “We’re playing a song we haven’t played on this tour yet,” Hartzman said to the crowd. “It’s based on some feelings that I’ve been getting in the short time I’ve been in OKC.” “That’s a compliment,” Harztman continued. “[The song] evokes the same feeling as my hometown. We are one in the same.” Opened by a slow, hypnotic intro marked by bandmember Xandy Chalmis’s lap steel guitar, “Burned Down Dairy Queen” is from Wednesday’s third album “Twin Plagues.” While I’m not exactly sure what to take away from an allegedly complimentary song whose final line is “I never know exactly what to think of my life,” I do know that it is high praise if Hartzman likens our city to her home of Greensboro, NC. Wednesday, which was formed in Asheville, NC, keeps the Southern state very close to its heart. Hartzman’s lyrics are rife with Appalachian, Southern, and hometown references. Often drawing upon the memories of her and her friends, she uses these references to offer an unflinching look into the absurd yet somewhat universal themes of growing up. “Phish Pepsi,” a country song (according to Hartzman) that she sang alongside Christina Michelle, has the ever memorable line of “We watched a Phish concert and Human Centipede / Two things I now wish I had never seen.” “Chosen to Deserve” — one of the most popular songs off of their third album “Rat Saw God,” which sparked the band’s more mainstream success — combines an up-beat country melody with descriptions of middle schoolers attempting to recreationally use Benadryl. Now, written out and described in brief fragments, these lyrics likely sound more unflinching than beautiful. While I stand by the belief that Hartzman’s lyrical skill is unparalleled, I know that her impressive voice adds a complimentary depth and sincerity to the band’s songs (that, unfortunately, my typing lacks). She’s able to shift from country crooning to literal screaming and not forgo any vocal mastery. Her vocal range was expectantly impressive at this particular concert, especially demonstrated in the band’s rock-heavy cover of “She’s Actin’ Single (I’m Drinkin’ Doubles)” by Gary Stewart. Yet, halfway through the concert, Hartzman paused and said, “I’ll be honest, we’re having a bit of a goofy set because we’re nervous. If you’re not in the pit, can you do a little dance? [She waved her arms in an exemplary motion] It’ll help us loosen up.” While her tone was both calm and diplomatic, she was right, the audience was, for the most part, not dancing. For a set list composed of rock to make you bob and country to make you sway, the audience’s lack of motion was perplexing. After the call-out, the younger patrons at the front began moshing to the more hardcore song “Bath County.” Even the stiff crowd in the back softened a little when the opening chords to the most popular song off of “Bleeds” began. “Elderberry Wine,” another country song, describes how love can turn sour, calling upon the Appalachian delicacy of pickled “pink boiled eggs” that float when they turn rotten. And, of course, the endearing yet ominous line of “Your eyes are the green of tornado skies.” The latter half of the show relied heavily on the band’s newest album, with their more upbeat (in tempo, not meaning) songs like “Townies” and “Bitter Everyday,” paving the way for the concert’s hardcore ending. Hartzman announced early on that there would be no encore to the concert: “The last songs make my voice inoperable.” Both songs, “Bull Believer” from “Rat Saw God” and “Wasp” from “Bleeds,” require Hartzman to scream, at length, into the microphone. During these songs, the mosh pit returned to the front of the crowd, with one person experimenting with a quick stint in crowdsurfing. The audience buzzed with energy as they left Beer City Music Hall. One person turned to his friend and said, “Dude, that slide guitar was awesome.” And, even though I’m pretty sure it was actually a lap steel guitar, that is perhaps the best review of Wednesday’s Oklahoma City concert I can offer you. The post Bringing Appalachia to OKC appeared first on Oklahoma Gazette. ...read more read less