Someone Still Loves You Boris Yeltsin

The explosion in popularity of blogs and their opinion shaping power has a significant role in the darling success story of Someone Still Loves You Boris Yeltsin, the accidental wonders from Smalltown, USA. As I reached the Music Hall of Williamsburg to find a teenage boy begging the Doorman to grant him entrance, because “Look, how could I have this picture of my learner’s permit that my friend picture-texted me if I weren’t at least 16?”, it became clear that tonight, the band who became known due to buzz-generating computer play would meet the technology-soaked youths who adore them so. The bar may have been notably bare, but not so for the floor as fans were treated to an early appearance by singer-guitarist John Robert Cardwell, who joined openers Wakey! Wakey! to lend some tambourine on their boot-stompin’ final number. Similarly, the drummer from that band then joined our main event for some fine cowbell rapping on their first song. Such camaraderie displayed the thrill our humble foursome is deriving from their quick reputation that propelled them to national tour status.

Yet humility pervaded the show as Cardwell interacted with the audience as if he were at a hometown backyard party. Between crowd favorites like “Oregon Girl,” “Think I Wanna Die,” and “Oceanographer,” he responded to callouts from teenage girls and told fond stories of native land Springfield, Missouri. Though his voice sounded a little rusty at first, it soon caught up to the exuberant performance of drummer/guitarist/singer Philip Dickey whose high-notes soared despite his place behind the kit for the first half of the show. When Dickey leapt up, grabbed a guitar, and outfitted himself with neon sunglasses, the evening reached its highlight. Excellent harmonies and an undeniable catchiness are what really make these guys attention-grabbers, and these elements came together front and center for the show’s second half. At one point, an unexplained older gentleman in the front row waved the biography of a certain Russian president proudly at our boys, which in juxtaposition with the youngster nearby blowing bubbles everywhere made an interesting case for the popularity of this band. Their name might not make any sense against their home-cooked breezy pop, but damn if the kids don’t think it’s the best thing since the new iphone.