Shackeltons and Eagle Seagull, Mercury Lounge, New York City 9/16/07
words and photos by Shelley Mara
While many at Mercury Lounge (NYC) on Friday night were definitely out to see headliners Longwave, those of us who came early for The Shackeltons and Eagle Seagull were amply rewarded. And because it was the first time seeing both live, I am compelled to gush.
After trucking in from their hometown, Chambersburg, Pennsylvania, (and trucking back soon after) The Shackeltons performed brilliantly to a sparse but growing crowd. Daisies were strewn across the stage, in what I'm told is a signature prop. As I understand it, the boys cart the flowers from their little home, an offsale gift from a townie friend. For those of you not familiar with the story of explorer and consummate drinker Ernest Shackleton (1874-1922), after whom the band was named (though the spelling is slightly different), look him up and you'll discover just the tip of the spiritual iceberg that makes The Shackeltons who they are. While idolizing Interpol, they also count Fugazi, Al Green, and Joy Division on their list of influences. Combine those emotionally charged bands with the strewn flowers and the adventurous story of E. Shackleton, and you get an idea of where the band derives their poetics.
Although I'm hesitant to say so, as it will come off as totally pedestrian, but the boys at times seem to channel the energy of the Beatles circa Revolver - not necessarily the sound, mind you, though the similarities are there, but from the feeling they evoke from beyond the stage. Particularly with the song "The Blood," vocalist Mark Redding himself seems faintly reminiscent of a pre-Yoko John. Perhaps it's more than a little premature to make such a grand conjecture at this point in the Shakeltonsâ€(tm) career, but believe me when I tell you I don't take equating a band to the Beatles lightly. (After all, I didn't join the Liam Gallagher as the new John Lennon Bandwagon at the height of Oasis pop-chart popularity.) Parallelism aside, I will say that the flowers, the sound, and Redding's sweaty mutton chops had me thinking of myself vaguely like a Boomer mom stuck in the memory of a 'Nam rally. Despite all of their spanky facial hair, upon closer inspection you can see just how young, and thus talented, these guys are. Except for Redding, the obvious leader of the group, the other boys look so fresh they could've been popped out of indie-rock bubble wrap that very day. While performing, Redding flung around the stage and among the audience, wild with energy. During the lulls, he shared stories of C-burg and its four-square-block downtown and how his mother had made the boys some peanut butter and jelly on pumperknickle (pumperknickle?) sandwiches for the road. He later said, 'Who even knows what rock n' roll is anymore. Why not have a sandwich'. Peanut butter, jelly, rock n' roll and the story of Ernest Shackleton. These lovely boys have an auspicious future ahead.