Death Sentence: Panda!

Hemlock Tavern, Sept. 25

I WALKED BY my lonesome into the Hemlock Tavern's live music space, and I immediately wanted to walk back out. Sullen hipster kids decked out in the usual overly fitted clothing were scattered throughout the room, gloomily staring off into space. Not wanting to stand out, I also pointed my feet inward and gazed at the floor in utter depression. Nearby was another single fella whose welcoming glare reminded me of a postpubescent Jeffrey Dahmer, so when Hustler White took the stage, I breathed a sigh of relief. The dimming lights and crackling amps would save me from this gloomfest.

Right away I realized, however, that Hustler White, garage-rock hopefuls from Portland, Ore., were composed of the very same droogs I was just mimicking, only now they were jumping up and down onstage and playing robot rock music! Sounds good, right? Unfortunately, the band suffers from the same creative ailment that plagues so many MTV degenerates today: a lopsided emphasis on fashiony gimmicks and noise – a formula that creates a distinct sound devoid of musical variation and emotion. In essence, too much style, not enough substance. The delineated harmonies, teetering rhythms, and charred vocals were clear indicators that this band had obviously not spent enough time in the practice space.

I uncovered my ears as Hustler White finished their set and Wet Confetti climbed onstage. Three kids also from Portland, Wet Confetti erupted in calculated cacophony. Finally, a band that plays noise pop the way it's supposed to sound. And yet, even as Alberta Poon and Daniel Grazzini blasted their guitars in shredful unison, I couldn't keep my eyes off the chaotic chops of drummer Mike Mckinnon. Looking on in awe, I also realized that he was reading drum tablature. While Mckinnon played math rock's quintessential 16-quarter progression, the rest of the band carried the melody with hyperspastic bouts of cerebral schizophrenia.

With a more positive outlook on the show's direction, I focused on the headlining band, Death Sentence: Panda! The group's attire was much more subdued than the obnoxious costuming of Hustler White: DS:P!'s starched collars and white shirts reminded me of Navy garb and set the the me for the band's militant performance. In direct contrast to their stylistic simplicity was their sprawling setup – clarinets, a slew of mini China cymbals, and even a flute.

Lead vocalist Kim West began the set with a bark, "Ee, err, san, tsu!" ("One, two, three, four!" in Mandarin) and a crescendo of noise. Right off the bat, I noticed the playfulness in Bay Guardian contributor Paul Costuros's pounding clarinet. With each song, Costuros would belt out a few improvised toots and every so often would magically produce a drumstick out of his pocket and slap one of the tiny cymbals propped next to him – a gesture that had me laughing out loud. Obviously the most lighthearted member of the group, Costuros was often met with stern reprimands from West, who at one point even exclaimed, "Stop clamoring," in exasperation. But nobody said a thing when Costuros unveiled the secret weapon: an effects pedal attached to his microphone that produced an unnerving blast of grumbling noise. These echoing shout-outs, combined with West's high-pitched shrieks, were almost too much to bear as the volume increased with the fray. The overall mood: concealed chuckles amid the appearance of uniformity and the sounds of revolution.

Combining the rhythmic elements of marching demonstrators, the antiquated and manic vocal stylings of a Chinese operatic lead, and a unique play on classic metrical clarinet, Death Sentence: Panda! have carved their own aural niche without using the guitar as a crutch, as so many garage rock amateurs do. Instead, the harmonies command the stage in the form of West's choral shouts, and where normal fills just won't do, drummer Chris Dixon pounds out a crafted mess with intermittent splashes of China cymbals. Death Sentence: Panda! should be commended for their art because it expresses the individual style of each band member's musical experience. Culminating in a performance that was equal parts silly and inventive, DS:P! have accomplished what other groups would literally kill for: a sound all their own. Death Sentence: Panda! play Sat/15, 9 p.m., Stork Club, 2330 Telegraph, Oakl. $5. (510) 444-6174. They also perform Oct. 21, 9:30 p.m., Hotel Utah Saloon, 500 Fourth St., SF. $6. (415) 546-6300. (Justin Yu)