WWC were supported on the bill by longtimelocal friends in music Quinn Scharber, Brief Candles and IfIHadAHiFi. When itcame time for their set, IfIHadAHiFi paced the stage for sound check for a fewminutes, testing their squeals and crashes. Moments later, WWC’svocalist/keyboardist Dixie Jacobs jumped onto the stage to introduce thespazz-rock group’s set, and she and the band launched energetically into“Success! Success! Success!,” the song from the band’s album Fame By Proxy on which Jacobs had lenther voice. It was a perfect demonstration of the tight bond between WWC andtheir Milwaukeemusic friends.
When WWC took the stage, the crowd washalf-hyped-up from IfIHadAHiFi’s set and half-subdued at the prospect of seeingtheir friends play one last time, but the band wasted no time withsentimentality. They eased into their first song, “[It Was a Case of]Accidental Death,” with no dramatic pauses or somber facial expressions.Jacobs, confidently poised behind her keyboard, layered her expressive voiceover the wash of guitar that Matt Slater charmed from an array of pedals at hisfeet as Joph Bravo nonchalantly tugged his bass strings. Impressive was theringing but fuzzed out guitar tones, echoed earlier by local audio counterpartsBrief Candles, but WWC’s brand of dense noise stood out with its vocals. WWC’ssongs sparkled with a lively sincerity that’s generally (and often purposely)lacking of the genre.
The crowd at the Cactus Club stood stagefront, singing along throughout WWC’s set, seemingly erasing the stage-linebetween band and audience. As Jacobs sang out the first lines of one of theirfinal songs, “Marianne Faithfull,” the fans took over on backups, singing thechorusthe stuff last-rites shows are made of.
WWC’s last call, although putting to rest anepoch in local pop, also brought promises of music to come. WWC’s fans shouldget ready to follow the band’s future projects, as music, by nature, is nevercompletely erasable; it simply morphs and builds. In this sense, there reallyis no such thing as goodbye, is there?
