[Houston, TX] From the outside, the club was a warehouse without a clear entrance, which I uncomfortably discovered as I walked from one end of the building to the other three times while two small groups of cold and mean hipsters stared on without offering help (possibly an exaggeration). The inside of this place was uncomfortably like the interior of a house, and uncomfortably guarded by a very mild mannered soft spoken ‘‘door man.’ The actual bar (once you got past the ‘scary’ door man) was all backwards and unprofessional too, with only a handful of beers and an old-fashioned cash register (I made that part up but you get the picture). I remain unsure whether this is some weird aspect of Houston (I’ve ran across coffee shops with similar qualities) or if it was due to this night’s gentle lineup – the venue is supposedly a metal club. I’ll believe it when I see it. This place was so straight, there was a girl doing quad stretches at the bar. I except the girl with Janelle Monae hair, which I never get tired of, from all of these criticisms. I was also hugely comforted by the long bearded scruffy sound man, whom I sat next to on a plastic child’s chair against a wall in the back. Anyway, Idyl was comprised of an acoustic guitar, an electric guitar, an upright bass, and a violin. The lead singer had a very pleasant voice – so familiar but I couldn’t quite place it – maybe Jerry Garcia or the guy from Hidden Cameras – that generic average-guy good voice. His guitar was familiar like that too – some 60s/70s folk guitar style – clean and breathy – maybe Gordon Lightfoot – I just don’t know which annoys me. There were potentially religious undertones in their music: “the girl who divides water into wine.” In sum, all of the parts of this band were pleasing, but as a whole, they didn’t move me – there was some disconnect in their sound, in that they didn’t have a sound. I think they have potential though.