Thelma and the Sleaze at Palmer’s Bar

Let me tell you about a Thursday night I had. An evening that made me realize a short-planned, low budgeted night out in the Twin Cities can be a gateway to rather intimate entertainment. Shows that one would seldom experience after spending  rent and grocery money on Ticketmaster and parking.

Palmer’s Bar, located in Minneapolis’ Cedar-Riverside neighborhood, is a dive bar, the diviest of dive bars at that, and has a reputation of having some, according to public knowledge, “crazy things” go down there. Now, I’ll be honest, I’m new to the whole “bar culture,” my days of being 21 can be counted on two hands, so this evening was something new for me, and boy, did I enjoy myself.

It wasn’t the long-awaited freedom on tap that made this night special, but a performance from a band called “Thelma and the Sleaze.” Have you heard of them? Neither had I, but that doesn’t mean that it wasn’t a memorable show.

Let me set the scene for you: an old Honda Odyssey packed to capacity with take out boxes, picture frames and musical equipment, a raised, corner stage about as large as a living room rug, and four bada** women who played ear-trembling, armpit-hair-flowing, rock n’ roll.

Standard set up — one guitar, drummer, bass player and an organist…but their sound was so confident and polished that it didn’t make them sound like “just another four piece rock band.” Their vocalist, sweet Jesus, their vocalist, she made me feel weird in the best way possible…her vocals soared and screeched over the messy, distorted guitars and howling organ. The drummer, “Snowflake” they called her, played her kit incredibly hard, never missing a beat or a transition.

They had so much character, these women, ironically implying they’d “been used to stadiums” and telling the audience their past touring acts were Poison and ICP. I liked that about them, their attitude and Palmer’s Bar coincided beautifully, almost as if the two were made for each other. They had been on tour for about a month when I saw them, so their set was refined, solid and tonally perfect. I watched the whole set, sitting at the bar, looking back at my friend Bert, nodding in approval with our mouths wide open.

The point I’m trying to make here is, a show like this can easily escape your radar and be replaced by something playing at Xcel Energy Center or the State Theatre. There’s nothing wrong with huge arena and theatre shows, they are entertaining and planned to a pin to assure that the fans’ money was well spent.

But please, don’t you dare underestimate the shows at a dive bar, hidden around the nooks and crannies of the city. You may have felt like you could see everything looking up at that HD Megatron screen, but did your night end with you touching the lead singer’s leg while she took a bleeding solo on top of the bar, all for five dollars? Probably not. Just something to think about the next time it’s Thursday, you’re broke and lookin’ for a swell time.