Bands from Indiana don’t usually get out of the Midwest; once in a while a stray hair will stand out to momentarily grab the attention of passersby, only to be cut down by an L.A. or N.Y. critic and made to blend in with the rest of the Aeropostale-shag they think we all live with. One Midwestern hair that goes by the name “Margot and the Nuclear So & So’s” is a little too kinked and resilient to be cut, however. Margot boasts an eight member roster that revels in everything from your standard rock line up (guitar, bass, drum kit) to some of the more unconventional stuff (bells, cello, trumpet, keys, and a mishmash of thrift store drums that Casey Tennis beats the absolute shit out of). But they’ve blasted out of the humdrum, the malaise, and are pretty much leaving prairie fires in the wake of their tours and raising eyebrows on both coasts. The hometown crowd at the Midwest Music Summit celebrated Margot as only a hometown crowd could, but there was a little bit of contempt in lead singer Richard Edwards’ posturing and lyrics. He turned his back on the crowd as he curled around the mic, hunching his shoulders so that it was almost tucked into the folds of his body like a mouse being squeezed by a boa constrictor. But it was the look that Richards gave the crowd, who openly loved him and screamed the lyrics back at the band, that seemed a little strange to me. He glanced at everyone like we, the plebian troglodytes of Indianapolis, didn’t deserve to be there; he looked at us like we tourists, and it kind of hurt. Don’t get me wrong, I still think Margot are pretty enjoyable to listen to and see live…I just hope they don’t forget about the haircut they started out in.
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