Raising Hell at The Inheaven Show

As I type this in the dark with my sunglasses on, I realize I was doomed from the start.

The night laughed in my face as I innocently walked into Baby’s All Right for the Inheaven, Britanys and Boniface show. I thought, “maybe I’ll cover the show, maybe I won’t, but I definitely won’t party too hard tonight.” Well, I jinxed myself. That plan quickly got foiled when The Britanys started singing “Happy Birthday” to their drummer on stage.

The extremely hip and sweet indie boys that comprise The Britanys played their newest and biggest tunes, getting the crowd moving and grooving. The Britanys play indie pop rock that is so incredibly foot-tappable and hair whippable that I’m not suprised the night turned into the chaotic whirlwind of fun that it did.

I noticed that the audience was a mix of happy drinkers and bopping hands marked with big black X’s thrashing about and oozing good vibes. The night felt like it was destined to be a party. As everyone tried to sing “Happy Birthday” to The Britanys’ drummer Steele (it’s a deceptively difficult song to sing!), it became clear that this show was just the kick-off to something beautifully chaotic.

After The Britanys wrapped up, Inheaven took the stage. The UK-based four-piece is another indie pop group that will pleasantly get stuck in your head for the rest of your life. This night was their first headline show in the U.S. and their second time ever playing NYC. The frontman sang on his tippy toes to a mic on a stand so tall it was practically over his head. It made for a clear view of the popping veins and sweat that was coming off him from the sheer force and raw energy he was putting into this art.

The place wasn’t sold out, but it was surprisingly packed for a Monday night. I mean, there were X’s on people’s hands. Who let these kiddos out on a school night for the rock and/or roll?

After Inheaven finished up, The Britanys and some other fellow musician friends shot the rest of their drinks and decided to take this party to a bar down the street. The bartender was a friend. When your friend’s the bartender, your drink is magically refilled every time you turn away from it. Or if you make eye contact with anyone, a shot of tequila appears in your hand.

Somehow, I was enlisted as the DJ for the night, playing classic country music hits. I’m pretty sure I only played like two songs and left the rest up to the bartender, but it was a glorious five minutes indeed.

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