Noise Pop Review: Death Valley Girls, Forty Feet Tall, Grooblen at Kilowatt, 2/23/26

Photos by Emily Anderson

You know how some venues seem to have the right “vibe,” and you can feel the fun as you walk in? It seems that the classic Mission District bar, Kilowatt, has that energy. Because there was an intense joy that I felt from the moment I walked in. To my right was the perfect long bar with silly things behind it, including Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure. I understand why the folks of Noise Pop have gone all in on this space. And with the loss of Thee Parkside and the impending death of Bottom Of The Hill, I felt optimistic that SF won’t be without a small rock n roll venue. I bought a $15 cocktail that was a very strong pint of Mexican Mule because it seemed right, and the price was clearly right, and from a time long ago in SF. I window shopped the merch, and then found a spot right in front of the stage, ready for some rock n roll.

Grooblen had me hooked from the first note. Two-part spoken word harmonies from two women wearing home repair jumpers backed by a three-piece rock band where every single player is, like, the best player you’ve ever heard. Fusing no wave, bossa nova, classic psych, cabaret, prog, and a dash of Dr. Demento novelty, I’ve never been so engrossed by a 30-minute set. I  felt like 5, and I wanted it to last forever. They even landed the perfect bit where they introduced themselves as a Springsteen cover band, thanked Adele for helping them get their first Grammy, and followed it up with claiming a Sabbath tribute, which elicited many laughs from the crowd, and Ellie scolded the audience for laughing, saying, “Everything we have said is very serious.” In the end, this was some serious musicianship being leveraged for silly purposes, and I am all the way in. Primus will open for this band sometime. 

Next up was Forty Feet Tall. And, where Grooblen brought the joy, Forty Feet Tall brought the intensity. Basically sounding like Television on steroids, the singer, Cole Gann, had the dry, sing-speak vocals and highly skilled guitar stylings of Tom Verlaine, all packed into a sort of post-hardcore crunch. This band was heavy as hell without ever sacrificing soul or humanity. The songs stuck with me, and they managed to push the normally subdued SF crowd into a full-on mosh, inciting even my quiet, little (OK, I’m 245 pounds and 5’7″, so not so little) 46-year-old self into the pit—a good, old-fashioned, sweaty rock n roll time. 

DVG (as I will be shortening the name for the rest of the article) opened with touring sax player Sarah Safaie playing a lovely, meditative sax riff- think Coltrane at his most delicate- as the rest of the band slowly set up. This seemed to be a build into their opening song, but a single instrument never made it to the mix. We never got to hear the guitar. The guitar was, sadly, broken. And who saves the day? Cole from Forty Feel Tall hands his guitar to the band, and that’s when we got to settle in to a 90-minute rock n roll dance party for the ages. 

Lead singer Bonnie Bloomington led a six-piece band through something so brilliantly psychedelic without ever feeling like it was “too much.” They never “jammed”; they just played really tight and trippy at the same time. The vocals were pitch-perfect, with moments of five-part harmony that sent shivers down my spine. During “Death Valley Boogie,” Bloomington jumped into the crowd to dance with the rest of us. Probably because we were all too cool and dancing too well, and she needed to join us. 

This show was so bloody brilliant. I haven’t had this much fun in ages, and I haven’t been compelled to buy merch from EVERY band in a while, but I now have a few stickers, a new shirt, and two new records (I can’t wait for Grooblen wax to drop!) to remember this night for a long and lovely time.