Santa Ana garage-punkers the Dig have been around since 2005, but even on the sliding scale of local bands, they’re unknown. This usually means a few things: a) they suck; b) we, the music-loving populace, suck for not paying attention to them; or c) they suck at marketing themselves. The Dig don’t suck, so the blame falls on the public: Pretty much nothing of substance has been written about the four-piece, and you’ll rarely find them on high-profile bills with big local draws. (Though an argument could also be made for option c. In the days of nonstop digital self-promotion, the four-piece maintain a conspicuously low online profile.)
The Dig’s anonymity is especially frustrating given that the band contain the exact traits that should get folks talking, starting with the obvious: lead vocalist Darla Diggs. There aren’t a lot of females fronting bands in Orange County, and the ones who do don’t usually possess the kind of ability to conjure the haunting bellows found in the psychobilly-flavored “Le Grifters” (nor the aplomb to credibly deliver lyrics such as “Who in this world could ever miss a fucking horse-faced bitch?”).
In an environment crowded with finely tuned pop practitioners, the Dig also stand out for embracing—and executing—a lo-fi, rough-around-the-edgesness that’s in short supply around here. “No Country for Old Men” thrives on noisy, raw punk energy; “Gypsy Switch” careens nearly out of control, steered back to safety with sing-songy refrains.
The Dig’s days as complete unknowns may soon be ending. They have played the past couple of Grrl Fairs in Santa Ana, recently shared the Continental Room stage with seemingly ubiquitous Venus Infers, and are releasing an EP by the end of August—the type of wider recognition you earn after four years of not sucking.
The Dig with Head Sounds and Death Hymn Number 9 at Detroit Bar, 843 W. 19th St., Costa Mesa, (949) 642-0600; www.detroitbar.com. Tues., 9 p.m. Free. 21+.