Aren't these pictures good? They're actually from Cavestomp! '99, but that's just a minor detail.

I feel sort of odd going out to shows these days, mostly because I'm still kind of in shock about the whole World Trade Center/America's New War thing. My unease was borne out last Tuesday night when I tried to see Holly Golightly and arrived at the venue only to find that the show had been canceled because the band was stuck in England, unable to get a flight. As I stood at the door of the venue, incredulous and inconvenienced, a flyer for Dead Moon caught my eye. I'd been looking forward to Dead Moon coming to Pittsburgh for months. War or no war, I was gonna be there.

Dead Moon, a three piece garage punk band from Portland, is one of the textbook cases of what's wrong with the music industry in the US. They are, hands down, one of the most talented bands around, and yet they are barely a blip on the musical radar over here. In Europe they play huge arena shows to hundreds -- thousands -- of die-hard fans. Over here, I think they sell about 5,000 records. As a result, they don't tour as often as I'd like. In fact, I hadn't seen them since Cavestomp! '99 in New York City, where they totally rocked my world, so I was really looking forward to a repeat performance.

Me and the posse got to the venue on the early side, as I wanted to catch Master Mechanic, the opening band. Master Mechanic is a local band, and I like 'em because they're fun to watch, do a cool Wire cover, and my next door neighbor is the bassist. As if that weren't enough, the lead guitarist actually is a master mechanic and has restored the 45 jukebox at one of our neighborhood bars. After enjoying their set, I hunkered down with some gin and watched the second band of the night (who were so awful they will remain nameless). Finally, FINALLY, Dead Moon took the stage. They burst outta the gate with "54/40 or Fight," James Polk's Democratic campaign slogan from the 1844 Election (having to do with setting the boundaries of Oregon). Oh my God, it was better than I remembered. Unlike that night in New York, everyone in the band was smiling and seemed to be in good spirits, even though there were only a paltry 25 people in the audience. They immediately segued into "Running Scared", another classic. What's so compelling about Dead Moon's live performance is that these three people seem to become one seething organism on stage. They clasp hands and have a moment of silence for themselves before they start their set, and whether they're smiling or snarling, you get the distinct impression that even though it's them against the world they're not defensive about it. There's something very mystical about them, which the name Dead Moon itself conjures, and something powerful, too. Toody Cole, the bassist and co-vocalist, is one of the most intense women I've ever seen. She's kind of petite, with gray-streaked light brown hair -- but up on that stage, she is all rock and roll fury.

In the middle of the set they played some material from their new album, Trash and Burn, which I'm not so familiar with, and then they made my night: they played "It's OK." I stood there shaking, nearly in tears, completely overwhelmed by the intensity of one of my favorite songs being performed live. For a moment I honestly believed that rock could fix everything. With all thoughts of terrorism and war completely banished from my mind, I thought about learning to play bass, starting a band, preaching the gospel of rock from pulpits around the world.

It was with this warm glow of the confirmed that I swayed and bounced through the remainder of the set, ultimately being let down gently at the end by the band’s theme, "Dead Moon Night". They finished their set at 1:52 a.m., which is eight minutes before the venue had to shut down. No encore, no "dude, you totally rocked" compliments at the merch counter. But I walked out, rejuvenated and optimistic about the fate of the world. I sure do hope they swing back around this way again sometime soon.

Article and photos by Alex Zorn.