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T.P. Orchestre Poly-Rythmo de Cotonou Dahomey at Lynch Theater
The Lynch Theater might not be the best venue for the all powerful Orchestre Poly-Rythmo, but even with the fixed-seating, nobody really had a choice but to get with the groove at last night’s performance. The band, active for more than forty years, combines elements of Latin and African music with American psychedelic rock, funk, and soul sounds with an ease you just don’t see that often. Last night, they hit each of those areas, and they hit them hard. That’s part of what’s so great about the group; they can not only hang with the best in all those styles, but they can teach a thing or two about how to really own that stuff.
Led by Clement Melome, the last surviving founding member and awesome fat man, the group went through around fifteen songs last night in their 90-minute set, and every one of them crushed. With members old enough to be my friends’ dads, it was great to see the group play so tightly and so masterfully. Particularly impressive were the drummer and the horn section, and, of course, singer Vincent Ahehehinnou’s kickin’ James Brown style. Other highlights included percussionist Celestin Honfo’s hat, which, form where I was sitting, made him look like Mr. Slave, and the fact that guitarist Fifi LePrince’s name is Fifi.
This was their North American debut performance, and I was really expecting every single white guy in the audience to have a ponytail, and I was pleasantly surprised to find that only several of them did. They’re hitting Chicago this Thursday and Quebec on Saturday, before they head over to Europe for shows in France, Spain, Ireland, and England. And after that, they’ve got a new record coming out featuring members of Franz Ferdinand(?). I’m not sure if that’s coming out in the states, but let’s hope some awesome label like Soundway or Analog Africa picks it up and distributes that to wherever I happen to be at that time.
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[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]Dth with Chris Rehm - Honesty is God
Songs to Sleep Next to
While listening to the new record from Dth, Songs to Sleep Next to, I had one of those pleasant space-outs where you’re not really paying attention to what’s happening around you, but everything around you seems to come together somehow. I thought someone was driving back and forth by my house, blasting the Whisper Song with the bass turned all the way up, but then I realized it worked too well to actually be environmental sound. This low frequency sound, heard first on the song “You Are in the Grass” and multiple times later on as the record progresses, is just an important piece of the collage of Songs to Sleep Next to. This is one of those records that you should be checking out on a real nice pair of headphones.
The thang’s streaming online at Bandcamp, so head over there after you check out the track above, “Honesty is God,” featuring Chris Rehm, an artist who, like Dth, was also previously featured on An Uncontrollable Urge.
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Full-screen that.
I never know what I’m supposed to be looking at, and I love it.
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The Melvins/Isis/Totimoshi at Webster Hall
I’ve been looking forward to seeing the Melvins and Isis in New York for months, especially once I found out Isis was breaking up and it would almost definitely be my last and only chance to see them ever, and I’ve been looking forward to seeing the Melvins perform for years. Last night, shit finally went down.
If you’re not familiar with these groups, just know that they’re two of the most legitimate heavy groups ever. As soon as I walked in, I started seeing heavy metal shirts, and I wondered how many I would have to recognize before I passed the limit of cool and went into nerd territory. I don’t know what that threshold is, but I definitely passed it after the tenth Baroness shirt I noticed from about twenty feet away. If you follow me on Twitter, you will have noticed several tweets from this show, which you’ll find updated versions of here. Sorry about the self-advertisements, but since the total number of times I’ll have made this joke now is about to skyrocket, I figured I needed to disclose everything in order to be honest with you and myself.
Normally, I’d feel like a hack about making fun of metal fans for loving Cheetos, funyons, and Dungeons and Dragons, but when the headlining guitarist looks like an anime character and the bassist dresses like fucking Aragorn, not to mention the Legion of Doom behind the dual drum sets, there’s not really that much of a choice, is there?
Anyway, here’s how the show went down. First, the opener, Totimoshi performed. They were a solid stoner metal group but … nothing really interesting happened. In general, I’d say they were a tight act, but then again, some parts of the performance were a bit muddy, so I’m not really sure what to think. Did I hear an accurate representation of the group, or not? It’s hard to say. Definitely some riffs and potential for heavy power, but I don’t know. Something seemed … missing.
After Totimoshi, the Melvins hit the stage! I was expecting Isis to be next, as they were always billed as the support act, and, honestly, the Melvins are just more important. But, I’m guessing the groups are alternating for the stint they’re doing together, which I guess makes sense, especially since, as mentioned before, Isis is breaking up. For an hour and ten minutes, the Melvins fucking jammed. They hit my favorite cuts from their two most recent records, and sampled from all over their back catalog. In general, I think having two drummers doing more or less the same thing is a dumb idea, but the Melvins knocked that idea right out of my head. Even after the immediate cool-factor of them performing these complex pieces in mirror image of each other, one being a lefty and one being a righty, they both add their own unique punch to the ensemble. Both sonically and visually, it’s a nasty combination, and I feel everyone in the room is a better person for having witnessed the performance. I could go on and on about how amazing the Melvins played last night, but why do that when I can complain?
Once the Melvins finished up their set, Isis took the stage. I was looking forward to some heavy sludge, and I was … really disappointed. I don’t blame the group for this whatsoever; the past two weeks I’ve spent listening to their discography in preparation for this gig have reminded me that these dudes know how to play. The issue, really, was the mixing. Whoever was running sound last night really seemed concerned only with one thing: the bass drum. Now, I feel I would be one of the last people to complain about drums being too loud, having spent the last seven or eight months playing drums and being told to quiet down, but goddamn, I thought my skull was going to cave in every time the kick drum sounded. And, if you know anything about Isis, you know that’s a frequent sound. Maybe I was a bit too rocked out from the Melvins, but I honestly think that this was horrible sound engineering, and, I’m sad to report that I left after ten or fifteen minutes of unfortunate sound. What the hell, Webster Hall?
In all, I’m still more than glad I saw the show; the Melvins rocked the fucking universe. Too bad Isis, on what may have been their second to last performance in New York, wasn’t given the same opportunity.
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Whoopie Pie OV Life at The Stone
Last time I was at The Stone, it was a considerably different crowd than that which attended last night’s performance. Then, it was hipster dudes, and a bunch of cute Bjorks, but the turnout for Whoopie Pie OV Life, a melding of experimental-jazz-metal groups Whoopie Pie and Angel OV Death, was a bit … hairier … plus, there were heavy metal t-shirts.
I’ll get this out of the way right now: Whoopie Pie OV Life — made up of Jamie Saft on keys, Mike Pride on drums, Bill McHenry on tenor sax, and Andrew d’Angelo on alto sax and bass clarinet — is a lumbering, powerful beast of sound, an unstoppable war machine powered by black powder and constructed on a frame made of heavy, heavy metal.
The Stone still has that same comfortable feel of your friend’s basement, rigged up last minute for a concert thrown for classmates and neighbors, yet still with enough know-how that everything works out alright, despite the “is this really cool that we’re doing this?” vibe. And the bathroom still has convenient right-behind-the-band location, which I still find baffling. There’s no riser for the performers, but that’s part of what makes it cool; they’re there with you. In fact, before the show, when the awkward beardos were all sitting around silently, Bill McHenry invited us to “feel free to talk amongst yourselves.” Nice sentiment and everything, but not with this crowd, bud. Not until someone steps up to be dungeon master.
The show began when the performers wandered out of the back stage area, and, with no great fanfare or even signal to anyone that the performance might begin, just started going at it. Saft’s keys had the sound of a vintage, b-movie organ soundtrack, setting the mood for much of the set in a dark, atmospheric tone. He provided much of the bed from which the other performers would spring off and rest upon. Pride’s brush-work in the earlier moments of the set were the scratches and slaps of a tweaker, almost schizophrenic rhythmically and visually. For the first several minutes of the piece, d’Angelo took the lead, and the feel of it all was like Dracula’s worst trip. Eventually, d’Angelo sunk further back into the group, eventually ending up behind the drum set, letting McHenry pick things up for a while, occasionally jumping in for some tag action.
Soon, things became more and more aggressive, and Pride dropped the brushes and pulled out the sticks. Throughout the set, he would occasionally return to the brushes, and at one point used a pair of mallets, but from here on out, it was pretty much all punch. His frenetic style was impressive, and that made it all the more effective when it was time to drop the spazz fills a bit and fall into a groove. He held it down while still having his way with time.
McHenry and d’Angelo spent much of the set in the lead, d’Angelo lurching forward to positively squeal, bursting with energy, screaming like a demonic eagle before running all around the other musicians, really exploring the space, as Bruce Dickinson would have wanted, before leaving to rest off in a corner, letting McHenry or Saft do his thing. Saft’s solos were volcanic, heavy and unstoppable liquid rock. McHenry’s work was a bit more melodic than the others’, and his tone was deep.
During a moment of duet between Saft and Pride, d’Angelo dropped his alto and picked up a bass clarinet before strolling back into the mix to make the clarinet whine, squeak, and growl. Pretty soon, things went back into full force for some heavy dirge. At this point, the group really sounded like they were taking flight, a black airship cruising through the sky for several moments, only in preparation to rocket out into space. The set was full of moments like this, one moment, just chilling on a space trip, the next, combat between alien birds and out of control machines, their earsplitting digital screams piercing through the cosmic mud.
In all, it was a fantastic performance, but I was a bit disappointed that, when d’Angelo went into the bathroom to wipe the sweat from his forehead that he didn’t also blast out a solo while taking a leak. But I guess you can’t get everything you want.
Check out Whoopie Pie, Angel OV Death, and everything else on Veal Records.
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Curved Air - Vivaldi
Maybe this doesn’t have the groove factor of something like “Back Street Luv,” but it definitely has the noise you need. Expect to hear it next time I’m on the radio.
Thanks to Absolute Belter, I’m now hip to Curved Air. I’m glad I heard their music before I saw them, because the guitarist in this video looks like he should be in Lynyrd Skynyrd, and I judge everyone on appearance.
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[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]Mulatu Astatke - Yekatit
Timeless (Mochilla)
Mochilla’s putting out a set of three DVD’s of live concerts of Mulatu Astatke, The Music of James “Dilla” Yancey, and Arthur Verocai, and, I must say, they’re pretty gnarly. In my opinion, Mulatu’s performance was the most compelling, but, then again, I’m more interested in his style of music to begin with. Each performance was shot in black and white, and each one captured an almost spiritual musical moment. While the Suite for Ma Dukes seemed to be missing something, it still contained many a worthwhile moment, and the first ever performance of Arthur Verocai’s solo record was full of soul and texture. As I said, Mulatu’s concert was phenomenal, with so many fantastic improvised solos, and insane musicianship from each individual.
The set comes out March 30, and you’d be a fool not to check it out. In case you’re still on the fence, for some reason, here are samples from each DVD:
FULL SCREEN
mochilla.com / Mulatu
FULL SCREEN
mochilla.com / Hoc n’ Pucky
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[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]Shining - 21st Century Schizoid Man
Blackjazz (Indie Recordings)
Imagine a collaboration between early King Crimson, Graveland, and Peter Brotzmann. Sounds fucking amazing, right? Well, listen to Shining’s Blackjazz and be amazed.
The guitars move from droning chords to wailing tremolo leads, the drums are thudding and tremendous, the vocals are screaming and intense in the industrial-metal style, with none of the hilarious heavy-metal growlings a la Deth-klok that you find so much in metal. And the saxophone… yeah, there’s sax. And it’s fucking great, in full free-jazz style, reminiscent of Mats Gustafsson or Ian McDonald.
Right from track one, “The Madness and the Damage Done,” Blackjazz is overflowing with power and energy. Their cover of King Crimson’s “21st Century Schizoid Man,” is the only one I’ve ever heard which rivals the original in aggression, intensity, and musicianship. And I can easily imagine zombies rising from the grave and slowly consuming the town before ripping me to pieces to the song “Omen.” Those tracks, along with the sax face-melter “Healter Skelter,” stand out, but I think the whole album is fantastic.
The record drops on January 25th, and that’s when you should get it.
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(I need to actually start taking pictures at these shows, because stealing photos off the internet is really pretty lame.)
tUnE-yArDs at The Stone - 12/23/09
Last week I went down to the Stone in the East Village to check out Merril Garbus - tUnE-yArDs. You might remember the write-up I did of her a while back, and if you don’t, just know that I thought her recent record, BiRd-BrAiNs, was awesome.
First, the Stone is pretty hip. As soon as I walked in, I felt like I might have been too much of a thug to really hang, but then again, I guess I was wearing as much flannel as required, so I think I passed. The place was small, apparently a capacity of about 80 people, and it seemed pretty much like it was just some rich dude’s basement. So, that was cool. There were chairs lined up, and the stage was at floor-level, and people seemed pretty well-behaved. Though at first I thought I might’ve been uncomfortable there, I think I really got into it, because it was really just set up for people to be able to focus on the show, with no distractions.
I did a bit of research (I went to their website), and found out some interesting info about the venue as well. First, the artistic director is John Zorn. That’s fucking cool. Next, read this:
The Stone is a not-for-profit performance space dedicated to the EXPERIMENTAL and AVANT-GARDE.
All expenses are paid for by the MUSIC itself - through the online sale of special Limited Edition CDs released yearly on the Tzadik label. Each month a different musician is responsible for curating the programs with 100% of the nightly revenue going directly to the musicians.
It’s always cool to find a group of people who are into music. Too much of the scene is about selling shirts, drinks, or being cool. The Stone is different. So, thumbs up there.
Before tUnE-yArDs went on, her sister, Ruth Garbus, performed. Thanks to Metro-North, I arrived late, a bit of the way into her set. But that’s alright, because what I saw was still good. In contrast to her sister, Ruth Garbus has more of a straightforward, indie-folk style in her music. Solo, clean, finger-picked electric guitar, with a floating, dreamy feel to it. Her voice sounds almost identical to her sister’s, but with a more whispered approach. Not usually my thing, but in a darkened space like the Stone, with all sorts of curtains hanging on the walls, it ended up creating a really cool effect, like we were all hiding in a fort made out of chairs and blankets, holding up a flashlight to the performer.
After Ruth Garbus finished, I noticed something perhaps unique to the Stone: the bathroom is basically on stage. The performers set up in between two doors; one is the “backstage” area, and the other is the restroom. So, once Ruth finished, a line developed, because everyone had to wait until the set was over, so as not to make it obvious and uncomfortable that they were standing four feet away from the performer, staring at them, because they had to pee. Or poop.
Even more attention was drawn to this when Merrill came out to much applause, only to announce that she was actually going to the bathroom. When she came out, she joked that if she’d made a smelly, we’d all know about it. My friend Adam and I were more concerned about what would’ve happened if she spent like, a half hour in there. Or if she had a stroke, like Elvis. Awkward…
But finally, on to her performance. She spent her set-up time kind of pottering around, making whale noises. I got the idea that she was just slightly strange. In a good way.
Though I’d seen some videos of her performing, I’d wondered if she would be able to really recreate the wide array of sounds found on her record in person, using only a couple of drums, a ukulele, her voice, and some looping pedals. Much of BiRd-BrAiNs includes found audio - things like power-tools, conversations with children - things that would be hard to capture in a live performance.
While she did noticeably steer clear of certain tracks from the record, she did much stranger stuff. She included stream-of-consciousness poetry, Native American chanting, and some of her uke stuff was downright Voidoidsy. If you’ve listened to her record, most of the songs from the record were quite faithful to the recordings … or, rather, the recordings were quite faithful to the original performance … but some of the more bass-heavy cuts, like Real Live Flesh and Sunlight were left out, I believe both because the guy who plays bass with her was absent, and because they might not have been strange enough. I would’ve loved to see those performed, but I suppose I can’t complain about what I imagined to be her reasoning for leaving them out.
She was a captivating performer, and throughout much of the set, she’d have an intense look in her eyes. And while much of her music can be intense, it really has the effect of creating a good mood, while so much other music of the same intensity can come off as just scary to a lot of people.
I’m not sure if I’ll ever grow tired of seeing her create the effect of an entire band using just a couple of microphones, a couple of drums, a ukulele, and loop pedal. It’s really fascinating.
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Rhythm & Noise - Contents Under Notice (Ralph)
I picked up more than a dozen records at Saturday’s WMUA Vinyl Sale. This was one of them. I didn’t know anything really about it, except that it was on the Residents’ record label, so I knew it would be weird. The LP is an atmospheric, metallic, ambient sprawl full of synthesizers, human voices, grinding machines, whimpering animals, and car horns. It’s heavy.
Side 1 (“File Under Soundtracks”), feels like the music that might go on while your brain literally melts - or maybe a Max Payne-esque drug hallucination. It sounded like what the soundtrack to Requiem for a Dream might have been if the movie was set in a dystopian future, but made in the early ’80s. The occasional scream, or crying animal gives way to police sirens, and I couldn’t help but think this is what kids terrified of drugs imagine life in a crack-den to be like. It’s a bad trip. The side’s climax occurs outside, with car horns coming from all directions. They start to die out, as you’re swallowed whole by the very city itself.
The other side, Side A (“File Under Sound Effects”), is one in which you might find yourself awakening inside the stomach of the monster. At first, it’s calm as you float downstream, towards the thresher. And then you’re digested by the urban machine. This side is all sorts of gnarly grinding, but you’re still on that bad trip, but it’s actually getting better. For a time. Then it starts wearing off, and all that’s left is the sound of those gears grinding, those teeth tearing you apart.
Highly recommended.
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