Hometown heros steal mainstream thunder

   As The Ataris played last Wednesday, filling Bogies in downtown Albany, the crowd present was illustrative of the respect held for the band since 1997. Their devout following simultaneously held immense appreciation not only for themselves, but also for the entire line up, giving good reactions to members of all bands.

   Sm-Albany remains far from the somewhat similar ideologies and allurement of New York City, its three-hour distant cousin. Yet, those who walk the streets embrace the atmosphere and cherish Albany for the very core of solidity, a lineage that brings people together under a compilation of music genres.

   Band members Kris Roe (guitar, vocals), Bryan Nelson (bass), Aaron Glass (guitar) and Jake Dwiggins (drums) have been criticized as being a “cookie-cutter pop-punk” stringing along a mainstream appeal by VH1 writer, David Cornelius.

   The Ataris are oriented more for a mainstream audience. They screamed the lyrics along with Kris Roe as the crowd cheered over the intro of popular song, “In This Diary.” “Being grown up isn’t half as fun as growing up/These are the best days of our lives/The only thing that matters/is just following your heart/and eventually you’ll finally get it right.”

   Ranging from the well-dressed businessman gripping the metal barricade to an elementary-aged boy zipping up his hoodie, Roe’s lyrics are soft and relatable, though the band is arguably a one-hit wonder.

   Looking out onto a sea of sweat, one would begin to see the cosmic togetherness of strong audience. The group strengthened its synchronized spark from the opening act’s aggressive performances that grabbed them by their collective throat.

  Devotion to local bands seemed like an uncanny aspect of the show as the opening acts stole the stage somewhat from The Ataris.

   The stage was overtaken by the third act, Caleb Lionheart. Previous bands, Travis Gray and the Frontiers, warmed up the turn out through the first round of drinks, along with Nightmares For A Week.

   Caleb Lionheart morphed the stage into a hot plateau, making the crowd jump as quick and sporadic as popcorn over a camp fire.

   A UAlbany graduate student studying history, Bucci’s energy maintained voltaic existence, amplifying its charge across the audience and furthering fan affection.

   “This song is about the wealth and disparity in the United States,” Bucci shouted into the microphone, his arms extended to the audience, encircling his closest friends and devout groupies.

   Together, Caleb Lionheart manifested an individual vibe, compiling and channeling combustion through thick and fast melodies, defying the stereotype of “punk-hardcore rock” as Cox described the sound.

   Leading into “Coney Island,” a well-known favorite, the crowd sang along, reciting the cadence of their lyrics, they each confessed a zealotry into political thought and dimension of global sympathy. Members emulated physical exertion as sweat permeated through their silver microphone screens, shining in the overhead brightness.

   “They don’t need an introduction, people know them, they sing along,” said Maeve Donahoe, a UAlbany junior majoring in photography.

   “And I guess, I’m just tired of waiting — for what I have to be taken away from me,” confessed Bucci in the depth of the song.      Bucci’s lyrics tantalizingly test the ideas of personal empowerment as his band mates string away at their guitar strings faster than a hummingbird’s wings — both taking the talent in an effortless and meaningful way.

   “Did you hear (did you hear) the dreams we had as children, collect like dust on forgotten photo albums year after year. Or the walls of sand built by children to hold back the sea?”

   Passion is hard to come by. Action is even more rare. What all the bands that played at Bogies brought to the stage a clear and focused array of issues that impact the now, what we live day-to-day.