The Big Sleep
06.22.06
Sin-e (New York)
words: Mary Mulholland
photos: Brandon Bogajewicz

The Big Sleep is a rock band from New York: they are also a force that will lift you off your feet and slam you into the wall behind you, where you will rattle to the ground, brush yourself off, and come back for more. Reviving a breed of psychedelic-tinged rock often forgone in favor of danceable tightness or goofy theatricality, The Big Sleep has had a big year—bolstered by well-deserved growing popularity, The Big Sleep recently announced their record deal with reputable indie label Frenchkiss, home to eclectic locals like the Hold Steady and Les Savy Fav. Fans struggling to exist on The Big Sleep’s You Today, Me Tomorrow EP now await the band’s debut-full length, Son of the Tiger, set for release on September 19th. Playing the first show following this announcement, The Big Sleep played to a Sin-e so packed the front door barely had room to open.

Fueled by the celebratory mood of the night, The Big Sleep played the most captivating show I have seen them play yet - and like other similarly entranced fans, I’ve been to a few of their shows at this point. Building on Gabe’s dead-on drumming, Danny‘s ingenious guitar riffs and Sonya ’s mesmerizing bass crescendo into deafening walls of sound that drained the color from everything in Sin-e except for their three mythic figures. And yet The Big Sleep neatly clips their epic, beautifully ear-splitting noise with teeth-baring hooks that form addictive rock songs. Thursday night’s set offered a preview of songs off Son of the Tiger, including the roaring “Brown Betty” and “You Can’t Touch the Untouchable”, with its deliciously surprising silent beats. Without a heavy emphasis on vocals, The Big Sleep grants its visceral rock total control: when lyrics are present, as in the awesomely revved-up “Murder”, Sonya’s spoken words add a contrast that confirms the bands’ somber yet unpretentious cool.

Guitarist Danny is a perfect rock god: with long wavy hair, head tilted back, and feet wide apart, his eyes were locked with the coolly elegant Sonya throughout the set. Like the film-noir of the same name, The Big Sleep is appealingly dark: Sonya, Gabe, and Danny perform with a degree of sophisticated gravity, yet they are also a joy to watch. Their driving, climactic rock makes me happy—happy that someone is making this kind of music, and happy for them that they’re recognized for it.

When drummer Gabe brought the set to a crashing grand finale around midnight, my collarbone stopped vibrating (I had been right in front of a speaker) and I started to regain my hearing. Once in a while, good things happen: talented kids who boldly play the hell out of their own music have a city that loves them and a nice record deal. Dear Big Sleep: I hope you sell millions of records, sell out all of your shows, and make lots of money doing what you do so well.