The Hempsteadys / Bandulus / Westbound Train
The Cellar on Treadwell
New Haven
April 26, 2025
NME the Illest, vocalist and hype man for the New London-based ska band the Hempsteadys, had a couple instructions for the crowd at the beginning of their set at the Cellar on Treadwell Saturday night.
“Let’s go!” he said. “It’s more fun if you stand up. It’s way more fun if you move up,” closer to the stage, he said. He pointed at a few people in the audience. “You know,” he said, singling them out. “You know!” he said, pointing at another.
It was the first musical lesson of several, in which three ska bands — the Hempsteadys, the Portland, Ore.-based Bandulus, and the Boston-based Westbound Train — managed to light up the history of ska while showcasing the genre’s lethal ability to get heads bobbing and feet moving since it was created decades ago.
Almost all music genres are hybrids of preceding music genres; in the 1950s, ska roared out of Jamaica as a combination of ideas from jazz, R&B, and Caribbean rhythms. It proved quite durable in its own right while also spawning a few other genres of music, most notably reggae.
As reggae proceeded to develop on its own course, ska underwent second and third waves of popularity in the 1980s and 1990s, incorporating ideas from punk and rock.
Today ska isn’t as popular as it once was — debates rage as to whether we are in a fourth wave of ska, or whether it has yet to materialize — but those who practice it have a wide palette of musical ideas to choose from. By hearkening back to one era or another, the bands on Saturday night alluded to nearly all of them.
The Hempsteadys planted their flag firmly in ska’s harder punk third wave, as the six-piece — Andrew Carey on guitar and vocals, Jordan Harrelson on guitar, Pat Slattery (no relation) on saxophones, Mike Winslow on drums, and Shaun Burgandy on bass, with NME on vocals and hype — started with a swell of noise that kicked into a tight dancehall beat with NME rapping over the top.
Throughout the set, they were tight and fast one minute, then cranking out surging rhythms the next, the squalls and stabs of electric guitar propelled by a thunderous rhythm section and NME’s relentless hype. The audience, which had stood up when commanded, couldn’t resist much more and started dancing.
“Are you sweating as much as me?” NME joked. “If not, you’re not dancing enough.”
Where the Hempsteadys had explored the connections between ska and punk, the Bandulus — up next — took the connection between ska and R&B and ran with it. A project of vocalist and guitarist Jeremy Peña, with long-running collaborators Leah Farmer on vocals and Mario Salazar on lead guitar, the Bandulus created deep, wide-open rhythms at every turn, punctuated by spiky leads from Salazar, but Peña’s and Farmer’s vocal harmonies were front and center.
“Any of you seen us before?” Peña called at the beginning of the Bandulus’ set. A group of people already at the front of the stage cheered. “Who’s seeing us for the first time?” he asked. A group of people in the back cheered. By the time the Bandulus ended their set, the people in the back had moved to the font. Peña proved a tireless frontman with a piercing, keening voice and a sharp, self-deprecating sense of humor to match. Farmer matched him note for note for energy and sometimes took the lead, while Salazar’s cool provided a tasty contrast.
In the early days of the genre, a ska band could just as easily turn around and play straight R&B. The Bandulus showed that connection time and again. The same attacks on drums, bass, guitar, and keys, the same wailing vocals, could morph genres, with just a little rearrangement. Peña introduced an original R&B song by quoting Monty Python: “and now for something completely different.” But in the playing, the band showed it was all part of the same larger thing.
It fell to Westbound Train to fill in the final strands of ska’s DNA, which the band, a collective of graduates from Berklee School of Music, chased down with aplomb. When playing straight-ahead ska, Westbound Train had perhaps the most detailed, textured grooves of any of the bands, with two guitars and organ swinging together in a tight, sparkling bobble. The bass and drums throbbed beneath them while a horn section of trumpet, sax, and sometimes trombone provided line after smoky line.
For its first three songs, Westbound Train proved its rehearsal chops by moving seamlessly from song to song in a tight unit. But the band really excelled when it used the rhythms underpinning each song to stretch out and improvise. Ska was always a close cousin to jazz, and Westbound Train honored that heritage by giving each of its horns a chance to go on extended solos, during which times the rhythm section itself would also experiment. In a few exhilarating passages, the band stripped the rhythm down to its essentials while the soloing horn seemed to float in space, a spicy combination of discipline and freedom.
“Some of you may find a reason to smile tonight,” the loquacious lead singer announced. “Some of you may find a reason to dance tonight. Some of you may find a reason to make love tonight. We have dreams to live. We have music and art, things that make us feel alive.” He practically winked at the crowd. “Do you feel alive?”
By then the question was entirely rhetorical. All the seats in the place were empty as everyone was on their feet. The drummer kept drumming, the band played on, and feet kept moving.
