MarC/DC's Marcy Mays probably won't be too happy about this picture, but it was the best one we had. Sarah Staskauskas sneers at the audience... ...while Kiki Yablon seems lost in concentration.

The Nerves, still touring behind the aging World of Gold, opened, playing to a half-full room; the audience, seemingly intimidated by them, hung back from the stage. Despite the Hideout's modest sound system -- it's an unusual place to see a "loud" rock band -- the trio managed to produce a massive sound, due in no small part to drummer Elliott Dicks' powerful rhythms. Bassist Seth Skundrick was all about the punk-rock porn-star posturing, while nominal frontman Rob Datum howled and crooned his way through the set like a crack-addled David Byrne. With the exception of the vocals, which hovered in a dense and poisonous cloud somewhere near the ceiling, the band's sound was impressively tight, and the audience's relative reticence was disappointing.

Enthusiasm soared for MarC/DC -- essentially a classic AC/DC revue fronted by Scrawl's Marcy Mays. If you're not familiar with Mays or Scrawl, skepticism is understandable; these days, the good-natured Mays is starting to look suspiciously like a soccer mom. The guys in front of me were steeling themselves for thirty minutes of earnest-but-ironic folk-style covers.

Of course, that's not the deal at all. MarC/DC is sheer balls-out (inasmuch as that's possible for Mays) rawk. Playing Bon Scott with surprising fervor, Mays wore her vocal cords raw as she happily belted out faithful versions of "Live Wire", "Dog Eat Dog", "Sin City" and a handful of others, always retaining the lyrics' masculine focus. Her cohorts, culled from various Columbus, Ohio bands, threw themselves into the performance with equal intensity; the lead guitarist (whose name I'm afraid I didn't catch) gave a particularly accomplished performance, highlighting the blues foundation at the heart of the hard-rocking material. It was hard to believe that this was a band initially formed for a one-off charity performance -- and a tribute band, to boot. This was by far the loudest, most energizing thing I've ever seen at the Hideout.

By inviting MarC/DC to open for them, The Dishes almost set themselves up for failure; Mays and her boys were a damn hard act to follow. Fortunately, the Dishes have a none-too-secret weapon in vocalist/guitarist Sarah Staskauskas, whose dervish-like energy invests the band's music -- think Red Aunts with Wire's attitude -- with a forceful, borderline combative sexuality. After beginning the set in a see-through vinyl dress, which she quickly shed while complaining about being "too hot", Staskauskas bounced around the stage in a chopped-up t-shirt, tattered fishnet stockings and a pair of briefs so aggressively unsexy that I'd rather not think about them. Guitarist Kiki Yablon and bassist Sharon Maloy seemed content to fulfill their instrumental duties with a minimum of spectacle, while drummer Mike Tsoulos (the latest in a ridiculously long line) seemed determined to demolish his kit by any means necessary.

Staskauskas' vocals -- a mix of taunting, cooing and raw-throated squealing -- can be pretty hard to understand in pristine recorded form. Needless to say, as she squawked her way through songs like the brand new "Ran Out" (from Kill Rock Stars' forthcoming Fields and Streams compilation), "Girls Can't Play" and the aforementioned "Vision", the Hideout's overtaxed sound system channeled her voice into a focused beam of resonant midrange drone. She looked pretty damn powerful standing there, half dressed, hair stuck to her face -- but whenever I think of it, my ears ring.

Considering that the Dishes have little more than an hour of recorded material under their collective belt, their fourteen-song set seemed like a generous performance. Happily, they dug out a little extra for an encore, ensuring that all present -- or at least those close to the stage -- would worry about permanent hearing loss for the next forty-eight hours.

-- Article and photos by George Zahora, who wrote this piece in the midst of a pitched battle with Windows XP and therefore apologizes if it isn't his best work.