In support of their ongoing tour, Lititz, Pennsylvania natives, The Districts, eagerly marched on to Brooklyn’s Rough Trade stage on Saturday night. In front of a slow pulsing light stabbed into a mannequins’ head, the crowd leaped in excitement as lead vocalist/guitarist, Rob Grote, waved his arm and winked at the front row through a bundle of curly hair and smoke. Grote, whose “hello” is much more soft-spoken than the growl that consumes his songs, writes about troubled youth, decaying relationships and the vile stench of suburbia—perfectly ferocious subject matter to accompany the wall of fuzz built by the blaring roar of instrumentals. It was then when my ensemble of friends and I stacked our empty beer cups, wiped the sweat from our brows and shoved ourselves forward toward the stage with intoxicated excitement.
There’s simply no rating system that can accurately fit The Districts into a spot I’d like to put them in. So I’ll omit all of the five-star, ten out of ten, two thumbs-up nonsense and simply say: if you are reading this because you’re trying to see what you missed, you severely missed out.