I’ll admit, I may have been inappropriately obsessed with D.C. local celebrities and jangly indie rock quintet Washington Social Club. Going out to clubs that were far too seedy for my fourteen-year-old self, my love affair began my freshman year of high school. I think the Washington Social Club Social Club (as the group of us obsessees called ourselves) saw the band upwards of twenty times.
Lucky for WSC, one of our dads once tagged along to a show. He was so blown away that he invested in their next album on the spot. The next year was a whirlwind, celebrating everything from their song making it onto an episode of Entourage to Bigger than your Boyfriend’s release. And I was there for every second of it.
I never loved that album quite as much as Catching Looks. It lacked the grit and the grime, the pure sass and genius wordplay of its predecessor. The band broke up shortly thereafter.
It may have been the end of an era for WSC, but they began my fascination with local music. Dancing to their music, fueled by stolen sips of beer and unadulterated joy, is one of the defining memories of my adolescence and a spin of Catching Looks brings it all flooding back.
