| Issue #50, March 23, 2007 |
When In Manhattan
Night Kills the Day
with Oliver Peterson
I have led an imperfect life. In the years since my quasi-adulthood began at age eighteen, bad decisions have been made – but in the end, I landed on my feet. The same could be said of my friend, Luke Brian. The theater of his self-destruction and eventual rise to what some might call the early stages of glory has been quite a show. It feels like not so long ago that I watched him hobbling around on a broken leg, from a car crash he shouldn’t have survived, with pinprick pupils, as he related stories of his recent visit to the methadone clinic and his amphetamine hallucinations. My friend was a junky, pure and simple. There weren’t a lot of people with much hope for Luke. I never saw him that way. The guy was a sensitive, smart, talented individual with ambition and big dreams to match. Since our days at Southampton High School, Luke always said he was going to be a rock star. Unbelievably, against all odds, he’s become just that.
His band, Night Kills the Day, begins their North American tour in support of their debut album, The Study of Man…and the Developed Shadow, the day this paper hits the street. By the time you read this, it will be impossible for you to make the Toronto show date, but lucky for us, they’ll be returning home to Manhattan for one gig before sweeping the East Coast and then heading west.
Luke Brian has come a long way since hustling pharmacists, copping dope and disappearing into the blackness of the New York City after-hours scene. His band and their music have played a big part in Luke’s transition from folding to becoming the guy with the winning hand. He calls the members of his band, lifelong best friend and bassist Timothy Falzone, guitarist Izzy Llugo, and drummer and “real man” Roger Benton, an “open-minded, cool group of guys with similar views on life.” Falzone wears a tattoo of a William Blake illumination as an illustration of his reverence for the poet. Luke is the son of a Franciscan Brother and a Dominican nun who left their orders to consummate their love. Like Blake, and assumedly Falzone, Luke is deeply concerned with theology, faith and man’s quest for God in a world fraught with darkness, temptation and cruelty. It’s in his blood.
Night Kills the Day’s songs are based on the expansion of these concepts and a collection of brutal, disarming life experiences set in the underbelly of New York. The devilishly handsome front man describes The Study of Man… as the first part of a trilogy of themed albums. It’s the Inferno of Luke Brian’s Divine Comedy. Luke has always been a poet. His experiences have changed, but the ideas are the same. At nine years old, he learned of his father’s death at the hands of a drunk driver. The exacerbation of Luke’s own fear and pain followed for years, until he began cleaning up his act and bearing down on music, his true calling. It was no accident that my friend totaled four cars, as chronicled in one of the heavier tunes on the record, “Enjoy the Ride.” He went to war with God. I think they’re at peace today, regardless of the darkness portrayed in NKD’s music.
Night Kills the Day will be playing at the Bowery Ballroom in Manhattan (6 Delancy Street) at 8 p.m. on Saturday, March 24. Their debut record, The Study of Man…and the Developed Shadow will be available everywhere April 10. The album is a lyrical, catchy and strong and the live shows never fail to rock.
Now married and living his dream, Luke Brian has taken the ugliness of his life and, with his band, has made something beautiful, powerful and true. To see and hear more, Google “Night Kills the Day,” or check them out on www.MySpace.com.
 |
