“We don’t do anything easy!”

Kelvin Swaby, lead singer of The Heavy took command the instant he walked on stage at the Majestic Theatre on Wednesday night. Opener The Silent Comedy created a boost of energy that levitated the headliner ten feet off the ground. A jittery crowd was ready to bounce, and Swaby and The Heavy gave them the springs.

With vintage microphone in hand, black fedora on skull, and potential energy building in his feet, Swaby was ready to explode. His seven-piece background featured one neon-lit keyboard, two saxophones, two guitars, one bass, and one drum set. There were humans playing those instruments.

Peak numero uno de la funk wave set in with the song “Big Bad Wolf.” Swaby shouted, “Where are the big bad wolves? The crowd cried, “AOOOOOHHH!” This song, like most of The Heavy’s stuff, called for fan response. So not only did “Big Bad Wolf” feel bad-ass in nature and give off a zesty shock of funk rock, but it also got the pit yelling like a blood hungry wolf pack.

In between songs, one guitarist’s mustache distracted me. I believe the proper classification is “the dali.” That’s all I have to say about that.

The most striking thing about The Heavy was their ability to switch up genres. On one hand, “Big Bad Wolf” was horn-heavy and soulful and got people jumping. “Girl” was slow, hip-hoppy, with words about seduction (“somewhere in Greece and you’re so wet / fuck it, now I said it”). And like the British band was straight out of Jamaica, “Cause for Alarm” was pure reggae.

After a solid, energetic set, the group was done. With 88 percent of the audience in attendance due to “How You Like Me Now,” people expected the encore. The Heavy came back for three more songs and closed with the hit. I expected “How You Like Me Now” to sound great, but I was not expecting to be in the middle of a massive mosh-pit, pushed around like a ragdoll. It was amazing.

The show was very entertaining. The Heavy, and specifically Swaby, knows how to energize a crowd. And while they can collectively produce bluesy gold, their individual instruments failed to shine. For goodness sake, you have a horn section, two guitars, and a keyboard that only play background noise. The looping bass and drum lines are essentially spelling out “give me a goddamn solo!” I felt rock-blocked, horny, and tricked by sax.

Minus the band’s resistance to jam out, the show was well worth the $10 ticket price. Everyone left with a corny smile.

About The Author

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Max Simon is a former Senior Writer who contributed from 2011 until 2014. He has a unique palate for spicy music—the red hot blues, the smoky speak-sing, the zesty jazz trio; it's the taste he craves. He also maybe lived inside The Frequency.