Pedestrian write music for the two-car garage, the $2 entrance fee, the “my parents are out of town for the weekend.” It's counterintuitive. You go to a house show for the sloppy thrash, the loose slam pit—not Pedestrian's brooding brand of emo revivalism. Wrong. In fact, nothing soundtracks a tight space like the peaks and lulls, the steady progression and triumphant climax of a song such as “Treasure of the Sierra Madre.” You still have all the fixin's of a DIY show—the sweat, the slam, the crowdsurfing that functions akin to a piggy-back ride. And you have more: layers of reverb, life-affirming climaxes, sing-along choruses (the slow build of “Coach Paul” winds down into a massive group chant). These guys have begun self-booking tours up and down California, back and forth along the Southwest. Catch them in your buddy's garage while you still can.
