The Empty Bottle is not just a bar or a venue; it’s something more.
It’s a dark, unpolished dive, charmingly rough around the edges, where the walls feel like they’ve absorbed sweat and spilled drinks over countless unforgettable nights. It’s a place where the beer is exceptional, the floors are affectionately sticky, and the music is loud—beautifully so, chaotically so. Expect a shot, a beer, and to hear a little-known band give a live performance that might just change the game.
Furthering the dive’s repertoire of performers on April 1 was Naked Giants. Equal parts garage-rock mischief and mature intentionality, they personify youthful vigor seasoned with purpose. At the Empty Bottle, they proved one can age without losing their spunk, tempering the volatility of angst into art.
Formed in 2014, Naked Giants initially served as an outlet for the band members as they confronted the turbulence of their teenage years. There’s a particular intimacy to watching a band who has grown up together. At times, it seemed as if they weren’t performing for the audience; they were performing for each other, improvising a telepathic connection and transcending the Empty Bottle’s crowded interior.
It was clear that this was more than just a band on stage; Naked Giants is a trio whose history makes every riff feel like a quip between friends and every song an effusive conversation. There was something deeply refreshing about witnessing the band navigate this balance as they flirted with genres and exchanged knowing glances with one another.
Grant Mullen, the frontman and guitarist, epitomized this confidence and connection as he leaned into a psychedelic solo in “Slow Dance II,” a crowd favorite, with the familiarity of someone who’s no stranger to the spotlight. Mullen’s guitar rang out with unmistakable clarity through its heavy distortion, though it was the look he exchanged with bassist Gianni Aiello, mid-riff, that made the moment sing. Aiello caught Mullen’s glance, and in that brief, silent exchange, the song was transformed.
At the back of the stage, Henry LaVallee on drums was the heartbeat of the performance, embodying precision and passion. His presence was magnetic, his grin wide and infectious as his seasoned hands pounded out rhythms both explosive and calculated.
In an interview with the Maroon, LaVallee remarked, “I always thought it would be so sick to be in a band that could deliver the best of rock—fun, danceable rhythms; powerful drums; blistering guitar tones; and a funky bass.” Their sound doesn’t need a genre.
Indeed, the Naked Giants never shied away from experimental territory. Most times, their raw vocals sounded like beach rock, only to slip into a post-punk sneer before twisting into a psychedelic track that pulls at the edges of nostalgia. Rather than feeling scattered or unfocused, however, the set felt like a well-curated collection of moments, each transitioning seamlessly into the next. It was playful, yes, but never disjointed.
At its core, the night was a celebration of ecstasy and exhilaration. Naked Giants is a band that has learned to harness their youthful chaos into something greater, not shedding its roots but growing within them. The energy of adolescence remained, but it had been refined into a sound that felt less like teenage rock and closer to the elegance of a film soundtrack. The band’s music offers a glimpse into something rare—the kind of exuberance that doesn’t fade with age but matures into something richer, deeper, and endlessly thrilling.
