Ducks Ltd., Trace Mountains, and Pontiac Flare
Ukie Club
847 N Franklin St.
Philadelphia
July 21, 2025
One of my favorite things to do when traveling – specifically, when I have a day off in a random city on tour, and time to explore – is to find the local indie or arthouse movie theater, pick a flick I’ve never heard of that’s playing at a convenient time, and go in knowing nothing about it. I’ve seen some excellent films this way, and holding zero expectations heightens the experience. Context has its place, but I also love being blasted into deep attention by the undeniable force of what’s playing out before my eyes. Admittedly this doesn’t always happen, but that’s why you’ve got to pick the right theater, a place with cool curation. (While we’re on the subject: shouts out to Columbia, Missouri’s Ragtag; Ridgewood, Queens’ Low Cinema; and San Francisco’s Roxie.)
Last night at Ukie Club — with 4333 Collective in the curatorial driver’s seat — was a version of that, because I’d never listened to rock Duck Ltd. before, although some degree of context is unavoidable when you’ve been to so many shows at a place and you know the other bands on the bill. You infer. Flagged by openers Pontiac Flare, one of Philly’s best power pop bands, and Trace Mountains, the indie-folk-meets-heartland-rock project lead by former LVL UP frontman Dave Benton, I wagered that Ducks would fall somewhere along the axis of guitar-loving indie rock. And when I ran into local legend Scott Hatch, mentioned here in my recap of Emperor X’s gig earlier this month in Philly, he gave me the lowdown: “They’re great, you’re gonna like it!” (Frankly, if Scott’s at your show, it’s going to be a good show, full stop. The man knows what’s up.)
Pontiac Flare kicked things off with a warmly-received, head-bob-inducing set of songs culled from last year’s excellent The Blueprint. (Full disclosure, I played piano on track one, which did not make the set.) The band played in power-trio format, comprised of guitarist-singer-songwriter Nathan Tucker, Ben Polito (of the every-bit-as-equally-formidable power pop group Benny P) on bass, and Melissa Brain (scene legend with too many great bands in her rearview to count) on drums. Though the songs are fleshed out instrumentally on the album, these stripped-down rock versions were every bit as rich, with Tucker’s big, distorted open chords rippling warmly with detuned gravitas throughout the hall, his tenor straining in just the right amount, Polito’s bass hitting hook after catchy hook, Brain pounding along in perfectly understated complement. This band hits the sweet spot of effortlessly melodic, catchy and emotional; anyone who showed up early got the benefit, the ideal warm-up for what was to come.
Trace Mountains took a different approach to the trio format, with electric guitar (Benton), drums (Greg Rutkin, also of the great LVL UP) and keys (Logan Roth). (Apparently the bassist was MIA, due to their cat’s sudden passing.) Benton is an indie rock lifer making the most ornate, lush records of his career, including last year’s Into the Burning Blue, recorded right here in Philly; the crowd was a bit fuller by now, but maybe still a bit reserved, as the band played a dynamic set, from drifting motorik rock invoking the best of Tom Petty to gentler, folk-indebted fingerstyle songs. Roth’s playing in particular shined, adding elegant texture, depth and atmosphere to Benton’s searching songs. The sound system at Ukie Club sometimes leaves something to be desired for lyric-driven indie rock, with melodies coming through but words rendered unintelligible, so I felt a bit disconnected while straining to hear the words to the songs I didn’t know. Still, the group’s chemistry and tightness was heard.
The main event, the band that brought the bulk of the crowd in on a Monday night, was Toronto’s Ducks Ltd, and within about five seconds of their first tune I could see why. This was an infectious live band, their fizzy energy barely contained by Ukie Club’s small stage, barreling through a too-brief thirteen-song set with transfixing glee and – by far – the fastest songs of the night. Frontman Tom McGreevy showed incredible stage presence, performing in an almost balletic way on the tips of his toes, back arched and chest out toward the crowd, all while constantly down-strumming eight notes at crazy tempos. You could be forgiven for deeming him a cross between Elvises Presley and Costello, with a bit of Pelé and one of those waving-inflatable-arm-tube-men thrown in for good measure. There were stretches when I was mesmerized watching him and lead guitarist Evan Lewis in rhythmic lockstep, bassist Julia Wittman holding it down with Peter Hook-basslines on speed, all driven by the raw power of Jonathan Pappo’s flashy rhythms on the kit. Compelled by McGreevy’s solicitation at the jump, the crowd came forward and filled out the floor near the stage, fully engaged in the physical and mental cardio of keeping up.
McGreevy donned a soccer jersey on stage, and it didn’t surprise me at all to learn he plays the sport recreationally when we talked at the merch table after the show; his balance dancing across the stage reminded me of Steph Curry evading a French double team for the golden dagger at last summer’s Olympics. (Yes, I know that’s not soccer. And yes, I know it’s called football everywhere else. I’m going with the sports that I actually watch, deal with it!) I left Ukie invigorated and adrenalized, as one feels after any good workout. Getting close to the stage during one song near the end, the band dropped out while McGreevy slashed away at his Telecaster, lunging back and forth and lost in euphoria, head cocked way back, and you could hear the acoustic sound of pick against strings. It was just one blissed-out moment among many. Needless to say, Ducks Ltd. made at least one new fan last night. This band is pure fun.
