Live! RedNBlack Washington DC OCT 07 [Broken Square Media]
With Plenty Of Presence, The Points Have Plenty.
In a city brimming with career-minded rock bands, one of Washington's best troupes sure doesn't try very hard. It's a scruffy outfit called the Points. Its look is disheveled, its songs are ramshackle, even its MySpace page is a mess.
But the emerging four-piece knows how to work up a sweat where it counts: onstage. The band's Thursday night set at the Black Cat lasted a mere 20 minutes but offered plenty of thrills, combining garage-rock bluster (a la the Sonics) with snot-nosed sneers (a la sundry classic L.A. punk bands). Sure, it's an almost exhausted style, but the Points give it a fresh look.
Much of that came courtesy of singer George White's choppy guitar work and Travis Jackson's thuggish drum-thumping. Keyboardist Rebecca Dye provided the low end, toggling between brusque bass lines and subsonic drones.
And then there's that guy in the back, playing the theremin. (Anyone who's ever seen a UFO descend in a vintage sci-fi flick knows that this is the stupidest instrument ever invented). But Stuart Gordon used it impressively, and modestly, laying down a wonderful warble while his band mates slashed and burned through "She's Gotta Know" and "Rock and Roll, No Rules." White's throaty bark sounded convincing on the latter song, even though he abided by rock-and-roll rule No. 1: Thou shall have cool stage moves. During the thumping breakdown of "Never Gonna Trust You With My Heart," he made the sign of the cross and then flipped fans the bird.
---Washington Post, Chris Richards
The Points: "Rock n Roll No Rules"
Serving up snarling punk rock in the vein of the Stooges and the MC5, these local loudmouths sound way more Detroit than D.C. With "Rock n Roll No Rules," they lay down a fuzz so tightly wound, shag carpeting might get jealous.
---Washington Post, Chris Richards
The Points "S/T" CDR
This is a newish band from Fredricksburg, VA. The sound is a total rad blast of horny heated guitar and blaring constipated rhythmic static blasting that will melt on your dress. Nice stuff.
---Max Bristol, Flapping Jet Records
The Points are a group of crazy party-bangers from the Washington DC/Fredericksburg, Virginia area who are dedicated to ripping your beard off as their main mission statement implies, but still know how to bend their Ebenezer & the Bludgeons-style punk bashing into a formidable breeze of satisfying sonic sewage. Humming keyboards and menacingly metronomic drums blend together like butter and send waves of dementia similar to those emanating from the first few bars of some of the greatest Spits' hits, so you can rest assured that they'll deliver a raw, good time based on their reckless enthusiasm alone. Check out their record on Flapping Jet, if you know what's good for ya.
---Victim Of Time
On the very short list of D.C.'s best bands -- especially in a live setting -- is the Points (listen). Most bands in this town want to be your friends, your buddies. The Points would rather spit beer at you. And we love them for that. The whole confrontational band thing isn't exactly new and can come off as a crutch for groups that don't have songs to make you care, but the Points aren't lacking for those. The quartet's unique guitar/moog/drums/theremin attack is trashy, noisy and memorable. Barnburner "Rock n Roll No Rules" is always a showstopper and there are plenty more like it. Give 'em half an hour and they'll make you a fan, even if you have to throw your shirt in the washing machine right when you get home.---Washington Post
In these sad days of foppish indie-rockers and Kermit the Frog throated singer songwriters, The Points offer a glimmer of recklessness to a community that lately seems hell bent on establishing emotional maturity. The DC trio isnt likely to whisper heartfelt couplets of alt country courtship into your ear or hold up the show with soft hearted request for the soundman to dial in a little more glockenspiel. No, The Points could probably care less about anybody hearing their lyrics, and if an instrument cant be connected to a speaker cabinet its probably not an instrument they want to bother with anyway. Instead, the former house band at the now defunct Shaw skate park Fight Club deals in loud, wasted three-chord garage rock, played with a bludgeoning repetition that verges on psychedelia.---Aaron Leitko, Washington City Paper
