The Church Of The New Moustachio, March 21, Audiocinema

[March 26th, 2008]

[A.V. CLUB] During long, sleepless nights, you inevitably reach for the clicker. And it’s in the early-morning hours—when nothing is on TV—that you click past day-old sports highlights, stale M*A*S*H reruns, OPB pledge drives and Ziploc-bag infomercials. Then, BAM! Spiral shapes, neon colors and creepy cat images collide like a bad trip. You chuckle for a minute, yawn, and turn the set off. Public-access television: putting the sleepless to bed since 1970.

It wasn’t quite sleep-inducing, but last Friday’s live multimedia performance, The Church of the New Moustachio, was, sadly, a lot like watching public-access TV. Los Moustachios, a brotherhood of fake-mustached twentysomethings (two of whom looked fresh off the set of the Beastie Boys “Sabotage” video), hosted the event, surrounding themselves with mock-religious paraphernalia.

Reverend Moustachio opened the proceedings with a prayer (Reverend: “Can I get a ‘Fuck you’?” Crowd [halfheartedly]: “Fuck you!”). Then came grainy, hastily edited videos and short “hymns” by local bands Raised by Television, Autopilot is for Lovers and the Taxpayers. It was those hymns—two or three song sets—that saved the night from too many bad Daniel Day-Lewis impersonators.

With psychedelic, hyperactive video projections providing visual accompaniment, three-piece scuzz-punk band Raised by Television plowed through two songs with bouncy bass lines and sloppy abandon. Not to be outdone by Los Moustachios, RBT’s frontman was decked out like an oversized lick-a-color Popsicle—big red wig, bright-yellow tee reading “Sugar Daddy” and ripped orange pants.

The best set came via the Taxpayers, who played short, tight pop-punk with enough sneer to get the congregation moving. “Cuyahoga” (not an R.E.M. cover) found frontman Rob Taxpayer chanting, “There ain’t no swimming in the new canal” over a stomped beat, and “Hellfire” featured rollicking guitar and rousing harmonica.

Almost three hours later, it was still hard to get a good read on these Moustachios. Was the show pure irony? The Reverend came around to ask for donations, and the patrons, fittingly, dropped fake money (handed out at the entrance) into the bag. When one patron and potential convert tried to give them a real $1 bill, a hearty “FUCK YOU!” erupted from the crowd. Can I get a witness? Maybe next time.