Catch your fill of indie rock at Neon Reverb music fest

The Clydesdale will be celebrating the release of a new album during Neon Reverb.

The twice-a-year Neon Reverb music festival is upon us once again, swarming downtown Vegas with more well-curated indie rock than any of you deserve. Here are five shows, among many, not to be missed:

Cusses, Wednesday, The Bunkhouse Saloon. The guitars are as biting as frontlady Angel Bond’s lyrics, a righteous snarl that bleeds distortion the way a deep wound does plasma. Savannah, Georgia’s Cusses abrade and soothe, punish and anesthetize, their turbulent alt-rock alternately moody and mood-enhancing.

Slovenly Records Showcase, Thursday, The Bunkhouse. The degenerates behind Reno’s Slovenly Records are epicureans of filth, connoisseurs of caterwaul. The label specializes in rock ’n’ roll as callused and grime-encrusted as an oil rig worker’s hands. This bill showcases some of their best acts, including the sharp-elbowed jangle of Greek psych rock subverts Acid Baby Jesus, the raw-lunged surf psychosis of Charlotte, N.C.’s Paint Fumes, the bizarro roots punk freakouts of Canada’s Hellshovel and a half-dozen other square pegs who treat delirium as a kind of aesthetic.

The Clydesdale and Coastwest Unrest CD release show, Friday, The Bunkhouse. Double fresh, double smooth, a double pleasure is waiting for you when two of Vegas’ finest bands celebrate the release of new records together. The Clydesdale favor an equally rollicking and earthy take on bare-knuckle Americana, while Coastwest Unrest is similarly adept at excavating the roots of roots music.

Mercy Music CD release show, Saturday, Beauty Bar. Mercy Music is Brendan Scholz laid bare. Having fronted rockers Deadhand and Lydia Vance (the former is still active), he’s used to making ears bleed like his heart does in Mercy Music, where he tones down the volume, but not the longing.

Milk Music, Sunday, Beauty Bar. This bunch always sounds as if they’re going for broke, as if they’re allergic to equivocation, be it with seriously overdriven guitar pyrotechnics that bring inevitable comparisons to Dinosaur Jr. or vocals suggestive of a man in desperate straits, sounding equally impassioned and imperiled. Their new album is called “Cruise Your Illusion,” and clearly, these dudes are barreling down its commuter lane.

Contact reporter Jason Bracelin at jbracelin@
reviewjournal.com or 702-383-0476.