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Old Pup serenades South Milwaukee

Old Pup intertwines new wave folk with old school rock roots 

By Genevieve Vahl

The Cactus Club sits on the north east corner of Wentworth and Russell Ave, kiddie corner from G. Groppi Food Market which sells fantastic hot paninis the size of a 17 inch laptop. Doors for the event opened at eight and music supposedly to start at nine. Upon my arrival, the venue took the liberty to change the start time to 10 to ensure enough of an audience turned out for their performers. This gave me the idea they probably could use a new marketing manager.

In the meantime, I sat at the bar chatting with my friend, the cellist for the opening band Old Pup. I came to see him perform and see a new venue as a recently turned 21-year-old. Finding new venues and spaces is going to make Milwaukee, the city I was born and raised, a new place to re-discover.

Even though the bar had probably ten beers on tap, and many in a bottle, both bartenders on duty were not well equipped to answer any questions about beer, much less even their favorites. “I am not really a beer drinker” I was told twice. It is tough for me, someone who works in a restaurant that requires me to have at least a base knowledge of the 28 beers we have on tap, to come to another establishment where people have little to nothing to share.

The event seemed a little unclear right off the bat with the secret time change, then even the performers not really knowing the series of events for the evening. A DJ was supposed to start at 10 but so were the actual bands? Which would have thrown the vibe off right away for the audience to go from a DJ into folk americana live bands.

Ten o’clock approaches and the sweet young bartender with straight cut bangs wearing black flare jeans turned the music off for a split second to announce the beginning of the show. Entry was ten bucks, a fair price especially 1). knowing one of the artists and 2). wanting to support artists in general.

The space was small and intimate. The stage rose above the audience with a black and white geometric maze backdrop. Layered fragments of the backdrop hung from the ceiling, ascending into the foreground. Panels of layered stickers like on a Nalgene water bottle decorated sections of the walls. Multicolored string lights zig zagged from beam to beam across the ceiling above the audience while a long rectangular, sparkly cloth billowed in the shifting air.

The opening band, Old Pup, the reason for my attendance, starts the show with the lead guitarist slash singer slash harmonicist and cellist. Our lead wore a Milwaukee Brewers hat, the classic logo with the curly ‘M’ and a wheat sprig underlining it, faded from wearing it obsessively. Both performers rocked plaid button downs, perfect for their performing genre.

The two begin duet style, the lead’s raspy yet soothing mid tone voice serenading the crowd with the cello making our hips sway. The unison of cello and guitar created deep emotion; the type of emotion I feel when watching the end to the dramatic fate in a movie, somber yet beautiful. They would pick up their pace with passion and force. The cello would go deep while the guitar doused in a country twang, creating a folk, americana sound. The duet laid a gentle yet powerful foundation for the rest of the band to join on stage.

The drummer and bass player emerge from the crowd as if they had been just another audience member fangirling the duet’s masterful delivery. The full band began their ballads together, no one ever overpowering another. Although a high potential for the cello to be easily lost, the sound technician with the greying beard as long as his ponytail did an impeccable job of balancing the ratio of each instrument.

A general consensus of the entire venue: fantastic sound quality. The sound never got uncomfortably loud in the small space coupled with the porous crowd. Every instrument could be heard equally; the cello never lost, the singing never busting an eardrum, nor the drum owning the show. Knowing the cellist and his fear of getting drowned out by the rest of the band, I was particularly impressed with my ability to constantly maintain ears on his essential bow for the entirety of the show.

I never failed to know if someone joined the crowd. Whenever the door opened, the music from the DJ in the bar area rudely busted into the performance like a drunk person making a scene at a wedding: intrusive. It was distracting and abrasive during the set, interrupting the deserved attention to the band. Having a DJ simultaneously performing seemed unnecessary to the event and only detracted from the bands performing.

The head guitarist, singer and soon harmonicist seamlessly strapped on his harmonica. The drums and bass rooted us in rock. The guitar in concert with the cello and classic harmonica interwove the perfect amount of folk. The combination never lacked emotion. The cellist and drummer humbly in their element, closing their eyes, feeling the movement of their unison. I honestly could have gotten glittery eyed if they played in the perfect emotional scene of a movie. The space was a perfect fit for the group; the intimate setting perfect for their emotional yet lively folk rock ballads.

Even with the unclarity and the answerless beer inquiries, The Cactus Club is a fun place for people of all ages. I could have seen regulars in their 60s bellied up to the bar on a Tuesday night, or people 30 and younger arriving and drinking lavender color cocktails with flowers decorating the rim for events like this one. It was a fantastic place to get out of the typical east side, yet not have to trek all the way down to Bayview to see good live music.