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This anniversary run spotlights the Boston-born trio that grew up in DIY rooms and sharpened a wiry, melodic indie-rock voice.

Ten-year lens, same sharp edges

The focus is on ?Gawk?, the 2015 breakout whose spiky riffs and elastic rhythms still land hard in small clubs. Expect the record in sequence with detours for anchors like Alien Blues, Oulala, and a late-set burst like Devil for the Fire to show the arc since then.

Who shows up, what you notice

Crowds skew mixed, with day-one listeners beside newer fans who discovered the band when Alien Blues resurfaced online years later. Energy is brisk but friendly, with quick song changes, dry asides, and short-lived mosh pockets that open and close cleanly. Quiet trivia: the group self-releases on a label named after the album and cut early tours through college basements across New England. Take these setlist and production details as informed conjecture, not a promise, since plans can shift from night to night.

Ten Years of Gawk in the Wild

You see thrifted tees, beat-up denim, and hand-drawn references to ?Gawk? on jackets and tote bags. The front rows lean into pogo bounce and loose circle movement, with clapping on off-beats when a riff loops.

Shared signals, small rituals

Between songs, people trade basement-show memories and compare first-press vinyl to the new reissue. Expect a warm singalong on the opening lines of Alien Blues, plus a cheer whenever the band dead-stops before a final hit. Merch tables lean practical and DIY: screen-printed shirts, lyric zines, and a stack of records that sells steadily once doors open. It is a scene that values songs over spectacle, where small choices in tone and timing get noticed. Ten years on, the vibe stays communal, curious, and tuned to the details.

Fuzz, Snap, and Space

Vocals ride dry and direct, starting conversational and rising to a bright rasp when the choruses hit. Guitars toggle between chorus-tinted cleans and flat, buzzy fuzz, giving verses room to breathe before slamming accents land.

Rhythm section as engine

Drums favor tight snare cracks and tom patterns that add a surfy undertow, while bass traces melodic counter-lines that glue the changes. Arrangements lean on tension-and-release: pared-back intros, a sudden push in the bridge, then a final chorus that hits harder at a slightly faster clip. A common live move is stretching the middle section for a quick call-and-response hum before snapping back into form. On songs like Alien Blues, they sometimes start a hair slower, then kick the tempo up for the last pass to make the hook feel bigger. Lights tend to be simple washes and brief strobes that mark accents without pulling focus from the playing.

Kindred Sounds on the Road

Fans of Car Seat Headrest often click with this band’s tense-to-cathartic builds and talky-then-shouty vocals. Surf Curse aligns on jangly-to-fuzzy guitar tones and surf-leaning drum patterns that flip from bounce to bite.

Overlap that makes sense

If you like the hook-forward punch and communal shouts of PUP, the brisk tempos and pile-up choruses here feel familiar. Twin Peaks fits for scrappy, garage-sunned swagger that still leaves room for melody. Listeners drawn to the introspective edge and crisp guitar lines of Snail Mail may appreciate the band’s lean arrangements and lyrical candor. Each act sits near the same map pins of DIY roots, tight rooms, and songs that jump faster live. The overlap is about feel as much as genre: nervy verses, big hooks, and crowds that come to sing, not posture.