Cavestomp / Coney Island High / October 25, 1997

This rampaging two-night Cavestomp!, sponsored by On Any Third Sunday, admirably captured the ageless nostalgic essence of underground guitar rock. Attending Saturday’s show were a diverse crowd of ex-hippies, punk rockers (the Candy Snatchers were spotted getting high at the upstairs lounge), mods, post-mods, and minimalist junk-culture enthusiasts. Literally defining the phrase ‘keep it simple stupid,’ this ghoulish pre-Halloween gig kept three-chord rockers comin’ fast ‘n furious despite occasional technical glitches.

Hosted by Fleshtones singer, Peter Zaremba (aided by obscure vintage vinyl played between sets), Cavestomp also featured merch tables with primal garage and punk recordings plus memorabilia. BBC footage of the Rolling Stones, the Move, The Who, and dozens more was shown at intervals.

As I arrived, the Insomniacs were playing nightmarish psychedelic rockers with reckless abandon, giving skeletal, no-holds-barred songs a helluva swagger. Somebody please put the Insomniacs on a bill with the Dropouts for a maximum fun ‘90s version of ‘60s punk.

Stockholm’s maddeningly archaic Nomads kept their composure after a blown amp cut short a version of Teenage Head’s “Picture My Face.” Opening with a perfectly scuzzy instrumental, the Nomads dedicated the anthemic “16 Forever” to the Dictators’ Andy Shernoff before giving the crowd a viciously searing “Touch My Hand” encore.

The Henchmen’s bustling Blues-tinged set was not unlike a stripped-down version of New York’s ‘60s legends the Blues Project. They let grinding organ saturate blurry guitar-drenched songs. But both Detroit’s Henchmen and Rochester’s Chesterfield Kings were temporary victims of faulty equipment and a muddy sound mix, taking away some of the energy but none of the verve of their combustible sets. Rompin’ through cryptic raunch rock, the Chesterfield Kings’ shag-haired singer-harp player, Greg Prevost, prowled around the club with a wireless mike that cut out at times.

Boston’s Lyres brought down the house with basic muscular retro-rock sizzlers underscored by snazzy organ flourishes. Their steamy after-hours party music will never be faddishly fashionable, though it deserves massive exposure for its uncompromising simplicity and proud association with rock’s roots.

Kudos to promoter, Jon Weiss, for assembling such a terrific and much needed event (and for getting me some free brews). P.S. Sorry I missed ? & the Mysterians, but it was already 3 A.M.