My ears were ringing for over 24 hours after the last time I saw the Fucking Eagles perform. I think I could feel the damage being done as it was happening, but I didn't care. I stood planted by the speakers as one blistering dose of rock ‘n' roll bled into the next, and I had the goofiest grin plastered on my face the whole time. That my eardrums took such a pummeling from the reduced, four-piece version of the band and not from the full, eight-piece version is some kind of testament to the power of the Fucking Eagles. The evolution, over the past few years, of the basic punk-meets-old-school-rock of the Fucking Eagles into a many-limbed punk rock behemoth with members totaling at around eight, give or take, seems to have happened gradually and relatively organically. What with all the guitars, backup singers, tambourines and harmonica that now fill out the band, the Fucking Eagles have started to resemble a bastardized, incredibly noisy interpretation of Spector's Wall of Sound. (Reprint from Super Best of Tacoma 2011)

[The New Frontier Lounge, with Girl Trouble, DJ Melodica, 9 p.m., no cover, 301 E. 25^th St., Tacoma, 253.572.4020]