Much of Madison was haplessly snowbound on Saturday's chill
night in the wake of the first winter storm of the year. Those who were able to
brave the gridlock traffic, mounds of snow and habitually tardy set-times of
the Corral Room, however, were able to warm up to the energetic tunes of
indie-punkers Sleeping in the Aviary.

Decked out in Christmas lights, the cozy environs of the
Corral Room made the best of the sudden onslaught of winter, with alcohol and self-serve
hot chocolate flowing in equal quantities as people sat on the assorted rec room
chairs, amiably chatting and munching on complimentary candy canes as they
waited for the bands to start.

With the Dundrearies of Chicago seemingly snowed in, it was
nearly 11 p.m. before the overhead music finally dimmed down, when singer/guitarist
Elliot Kozel of Sleeping in the Aviary announced that Madison's Elden Calder
was going to leave everyone in attendance "moist" — obviously not necessary,
given the dripping wet weather.

Calder's stripped-down, minor key, mid-tempo sound recalled
at times the slower moments of Pavement and the subtle quiet of Colossal Youth,
but it was simply not the right time for such reticence, as the sleepy sound
ended up acting as a wet blanket for everyone in attendance needing a jolt of
energy to wake them up.

The evening served as a release party of sorts for Aviary's
Kozel, who had released a self-titled solo album under the equally terrible
moniker She Is So Beautiful/She Is So Blonde in November but had to put a raincheck
on its performance. It would have been hard to figure all this out without
knowing beforehand, however, as Kozel appeared at the front of the room without
fanfare, a fuzzy, distorted drum beat looping in the speakers and a beat-up
modified acoustic in his hand as he strummed "Watch the Crimes Gutter Scent,"
his head characteristically resembling a bird's as he bobbed up and down and
sang into the microphone.

The shambolic, spontaneous stage manner is so effective for
Kozel in Aviary, but it didn't seem to be the best way to present his record
solo material, with much of the quiet, nuanced material getting lost in his
Spartan setup and muffled vocals. As a result, much of the set never completely
clicked — at one point Kozel even sheepishly declaring between songs, "I'm
gonna play another boring one." Occasionally, however, the ragged playing came
together with the material, with Kozel spitting off inspired internal rhymes
like the second coming of Jeff Mangum. After Kozel's short set, the rest of
Sleeping in the Aviary seamlessly convened around him, and the night finally
found its proper footing in Aviary's fractured pop gems like "Another Girl," "Pop
Song" and "Face Lift Floats."

The mercurial sound of Sleeping in the Aviary is hard to pin
down, with its effortless '60s pop played at 600 beats per minute, always seeming
on the brink of collapse — and sometimes actually being so. The bounce-along
songs "Gloworm" and "Lanugo," abruptly fell into a careening, feedback
freak-out exchange between Kozel and bassist Phil Malstadt. Punkish, drum-throttling
bursts "Maureen Doesn't Like Me Anymore" and "Only Son" seemed to end just as
they were gleefully taking off. And on "Crance," a tongue-in-cheek throwback to
dance-driven songs like "The Twist," Kozel handed vocalist duties off to drummer
Michael Sienkowski, as he taught the audience "Paula Abdul-style" how to cry
and dance simultaneously.

Perhaps keeping with Sleeping in the Aviary's eclectic,
irreverent ethos, its fan base seems to be one of the most diverse, with three
mischievous 20-somethings slamming into each other, Screamin' Cyn Cyn's Shane
O'Neil raising his Pabst and headbanging along, and a determined couple trying
their hardest to slow-grind their way through every song, all within mere feet
of each other.

Having a penchant for covers coming out of left field, the
band broke into Gary Glitter's iconic instrumental "Rock and Roll," then played
its melodramatic take on the "America's Funniest Home Videos" theme song. In
the cathartic aftermath of the Bob Saget classic, the set quietly ended, the
audience left in the liminal space between rocking out and just standing around,
as Sleeping in the Aviary went over to the door, CDs in hand and unimposingly
offered the wares to ward off the frozen night.