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By DCU - No Sleep Til Bedtime - 05/27/05

Being south of the border, and early for the Maryland Death Fest, also brought the perk of being able to check out a local show the night before. And what a show it was to be, Baltimore’s own Swarm of the Lotus, The Blackfire Revelation, Pig Destroyer, and New York noise rock legends Unsane, so we set out through what would be a harrowing journey through the city. After seemingly being lost for 45 minutes through some incredibly questionable areas of Baltimore (where asking directions with a random pedestrian did not seem the wisest of decisions), we finally found our way to the Ottobar. Sadly Swarm of the Lotus had already performed by this time (along with BARS and Dactyl), which was disappointing as their 2004 release When White Becomes Black was one of my favorite records of last year. At least solace can be taken in the fact that their signing to Abacus Records and their upcoming new album release will no doubt mean more extensive touring.

Opening up the show for me was the New Orleans duo The Blackfire Revelation. Last month I heard the band’s Gold and Guns on 51 EP, and was kind of taken aback. While not earth shattering, the EP came at a perfect time for me as the sludgy blues styled hard rock was definitely refreshing in comparison with what I was currently listening to. They opened up the show with “Battle Hymn” an energetic stop-start rock song that was truly the high point of their set. From this point on everything went down hill as they just were not able to retain the energy and groove. Most of the audience was elated when they announced the end of their set, as what initially was an interesting dynamic of a performing duo (à la DFA1979), turned into a sound that was just too stripped down to accept as something meaningful and first rate.

Next up was one of my favorite bands of recent year, Pig Destroyer, with what seemed to be a welcome but strange billing for the band. The three piece (guitar, drums, and vocals, no bass) rifled through an intense set and while being out of place from The Blackfire Revelation and Unsane they made a strong impression on everyone present. Singer JR Hayes offered up a foray of shrieks and screaming that gives PxDx part of their distinctive sound, while the guitar and drums (a duo done right) created the intense wall of sound that completed the onslaught. While the crowd wasn’t generally too aggressive (except for a small group of assholes linking arms and clothes-lining people in a group of three), the extreme and disturbing nature of the music seemed to be collectively acknowledged by all. The high point in the set was the track ‘thumbsucker’ off their recent release Terrifyer, with a stealthy and grooving guitar riff that just seemed to cause the room to vibrate.

Closing off the night were acclaimed noise rock kings Unsane, back with their reunion album and tour. While I was familiar with the band’s major successful songs in the past, I never considered myself a fan until hearing their recent release Blood Run. Musically their set was flawless, casting a spell on the crowd. The room was so incredibly hot and humid and this just added to the heaviness of their sound as they rocked through several tracks at a time. The raw vocals complemented with thick bass lines and sharp guitar tone demonstrated their style of intensity through simplicity. Playing songs new and old, the trio has not missed a beat and showcased exactly why even after 15 years, and a hiatus, they are still completely pertinent to the modern rock and metal scenes.

By T BONE - Beer O'Clock - 06/13/05

“It is Monday night, don’t you guys have jobs to go to in morning?” says the bass player for Atomic Bitchwax over the mic. And the 100 people who were at Foufounes on Monday night responded with an overwhelming “yes”, but we didn’t give a fuck if we have to. The gesture was done with beer in the air with much hollering. Yes, we all came here to feel the serpents of rock play. I actually didn’t really know them until the show other than by name. The K-man from Beyond THAT Grave Yard III called it the American version of the Illuminati. He continued by telling me to mix some Stevie Ray Vaughn and you’ll have Atomic Bitchwax. He simply finished off by being straightforward: “Dude, they’re fucking heavy!”. OK, OK, that was worth conning my way out of work to drink some beers on the patio and have a few smokes. At 8PM, I was at Foufounes sipping wine and feeling fine.

OK, time for a quick tangent. I have been currently reading a book on Possessions and Trance in Bali. The Balinese put great importance in the trance state and is accepted in a wide range of practices from artistic to religious. The highest type of trance for the Balinese comes from the gods. However, this type of trance is usually initiated only in temple ceremonies. A temple ceremony is a sacred place where rituals and offerings are made to the gods or past ancestors in gratitude. To this end, they will often use music to induce trance and invite the gods to the ceremony. Therefore the highest type of music for the Balinese is music created by the gods and channelled through musicians in a trance. It is easy to look at all this with awe mixed with a hint of jealously for these practices. We can lament on how we have gotten so far away from it, living here in the consuming West. But I would beg to differ. Or at least I would surmise that we’re not very far off and that we are closer than we think. Brad Warner, the Zen Master and monster movie maker wrote an interesting book called Hardcore Zen. One chapter in that book was called “Why is Gene Simons not a Zen Master?”. I won’t ruin the punchline for you as Brad wrote it quite eloquently, so I will only leave you with the initial question. Can musicians be intrinsically interested in reality and express it in their playing?

So to get back to Atomic Bitchwax -- for us who are into rock n’ roll -- I will ask you another question: who hasn’t felt this trance-like state watching your favourite band? You know the feeling, although it may be different for each band; there is a smoothness, like melting honey that fills your whole being. You become loose and your body, head, or whatever you feel is moving, is dancing to the rhythm. For experienced musicians, you might get that feeling when you are playing; your mind becomes quiet and your movements are perceived as involuntary. Like Steve from the Saga once told me that it was only when he played that he felt completely free. But then why is Gene Simons not a Zen Master?

This is where we really get into our Atomic Bitchwax. The first band Steeltow were really good. It is one of those bands that would be quite amazing if they just went out and tour constantly. Good rock with strong vocals. As for Floating Widget, they were more memorable when they opened up for Alabama Thunder Pussy. Mind you, I was completely tanked and stoned at the ATP show, so maybe anything sounded good. Don’t get me wrong, Floating Widget were good with strong vocals, but there were too much rock theatrics for this type of rock show. My personal feeling is that like the first band, they haven’t had a chance to tour constantly and lose that sense of wanting to perform instead of just playing. There is no two ways about it, if you want to be in a solid rock band, you have to play all the time, and that takes balls because you’re gonna be poor.

When Atomic Bitchwax came on stage, you could tell that in their own right, they were masters. Not that Steeltow and Floating Widget were bad, it’s just that Atomic Bitchwax just completely outranks them in the amount of hours they have played as a band. It does make a huge different, especially for rock bands. They played a solid set with, blistering solos, lots of rhythm and good soul, everything sounded right and in place. Nothing seems to be forced. If you weren’t there, you should have been. At the end of it all, you sometimes find order in the chaos of a rock show. When Atomic Bitchwax was about to play their last song, a guy who looked like the Deaner from FUBAR climbed on stage. He then proceeded to bow with hand-in-fist reverence to each of the musicians. He then jumped off the stage and was carried out by a procession of people who took him to the four corner of the room like a Jesus on a cross. Atomic Bitchwax went into their last song with their fake encore, and walked off the stage. From the stage, the bassist directed himself straight to the merch table to sell some shirts and records for gas money.

Can Gene Simons be a Zen Master? Can Atomic Bitchwax be a Zen Master? Can rock n’ roll be your Zen Master? If you think that’s not possible, let me remind you that we live in a world where Michael Jackson is innocent of all charges.

[Tune into the Beer O’Clock Fridays at 8:00pm]

By Darcy - 05/06/05

Manuva To Montreal: “Splendid!”

We’re gonna hafta make an implicit covenant here before you read the following musings regarding the Roots Manuva show that went down at Cabaret La Tulipe on May 6th 2005: I promise to try and recall to my fullest capability the highs and lows of the show without exaggerating or making things up. I accept full responsibility for the fact that I should have written this a month ago. In light of this, I beg of the reader to consider that since Manuva hadn’t been to Montreal since the late nineties, the author may have been in party-mode that night and set aside a few journalistic practices, such as note-taking and undivided attention-paying.

In fairness, any ability on anyone’s part to truly and keenly observe the show was hindered by the fact that stage lighting made it really difficult to see black dudes perform. This would be the case all night. Openers Airborn Audio (two-thirds of the defunct Anti-Pop Consortium) gave a well-received performance, and from what I heard, the sound was correct. Tons of people were on the floor to see them, but then again there’s not much other place to go aside from a few tables and the upstairs balcony. Still, most appeared to be fans. Anti-Pop is just one of those groups I never got into, and though I’ve heard good things about Airborn Audio and enjoyed music I’ve heard from them, I honestly could not offer a balanced critique of their set. People had their hands up, cheered like crazy and sang along. All the while, I could see only two LEDs bobbing around on the stage, and two figures in the shadows behind them. Tulipe is a non-smoking venue, but the sweaty mist in the air of the humid room also hindered stage visibility. Hoping the lighting would improve for the headliner, I decided to move to the balcony to see if it might make a difference.

Surprisingly, seating was still abundantly available upstairs. Comfortable in my old stadium-style pull-down chair, I decided to break the non-smoking rule with something at least halfway worthwhile getting tossed out for. As the house lights dimmed again, the stinky air had an electric quality, which cooked up the odour of anticipation. Two darkened figures emerged, one setting up behind the DJ booth, retreating behind to the back-left of the stage behind a nondescript apparatus (which turned out to be a sysnthesizer). A brief intro-jam segued to the opening melody of “Mind 2 Motion”, the first song from Manuva’s latest LP, Awfully Deep (Big Dada/Banana Klan). A third figure appeared before the mic and grabbed it. “You look splendid, Montreal!” boomed a deep British baritone. That golden voice could only belong to one man, Mr. Rodney Smith, the man behind the dials, dubplates and discourse of Roots Manuva.

“Bashment Boogie” and “Juggle Tings Proper” were among the classic joints that came early in the set. More than half of the roughly 80-minute show consisted of new material, which suited me fine as I had been bumping it non-stop for about two weeks in the living room. “Chin high, pumped chest, we step right to it/Choice is, there ain’t no choice but to pursue it,” Smith raps on the chorus “Chin High”, an upbeat jam that stands out both on the record and in concert as a perfect example of one tradition that inspires Roots Manuva’s reggae-dub-fuelled hip hop: a message of humanity’s strength in the face of troubling times. In the spirit of many great reggae artists, the depraved depths of society are cross-examined by those who seek to know ‘da real situation, and Manuva helps give voice to the voiceless by asking for painful truths over uplifiting melodies.

Manuva is also known his for darker, downtempo excursions, which in this set included last year’s indie single “A Haunting” (which echoes of desolation over a slow-paced upstroke, à la Specials’ “Ghosttown”), and crowd favorite “Movements,” the first track from his debut LP Brand New Second Hand, the title of which pays hommage to Peter Tosh). I’ll add here that the lighting remained fitting, with the exception of the occasional green or blue light that allowed me to see at least some of the physical features of the performers. Most of the time, a blinding white light from behind relegated them to dancing shadows. The effect was fairly interesting, but I’m trying to figure out if that’s the club lighting or part of the show. At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter. The soundsystem stood up to the bass-heavy beats and the dusty, dirty space synth, which is a miracle considering that some sound guys can’t get it right with two turntables and a microphone. A synth/drum n’bass face-off tested the decibel limit and speaker capacity, so much so that Roots made a “Public Healt’ Announcement” before the short showcase. “Bass levels which are about to emanate from up ’ere may cause certain listeners to shit themselves.”

The self-deprecating “Too Cold” had many in the crowd excitedly agreeing that “Sometime (we) hate (our) selves/ Sometime (we) love (our) selves!”. Manuva and his stage mates agreed several times that Montreal seemed to be “getting along splendid,” but other than a few quick pauses between songs, the performers laced us with tight delivery and energetic movement, the only shortcoming being that after all these years, we perhaps could have endured a longer set. When they returned to the stage for a quick encore, the DJ opened with eight bars of the party-jam “Hol’ It Up”, but quickly stopped as Manuva grinned and counted time to “Witness” –- which, I admit, had to be busted out at some point. Airborne Audio returned to the stage for a group freestyle jam dubbed “Airborne Manuva”, wherein Smith gave a nod to his American counterparts by rhyming over old Gangstarr and A Tribe Called Quest beats.

Alas, a second separate act on the roster at La Tulipe that night – the Has’ben Wanabes (no fucking jokes, I guarantee) – had an all important 11:30 curtain call, and so Manuva and crew gave a bow and a “Cheerio!” ’round 11:10 PM. All in all, if memory serves, it was a beautiful spring night that couldn’t have been any better, unless maybe if Common hadn’t have been playing at the Metropolis simultaneously. The scheduling conflict made the decision difficult for fans of the true shit, but Common’ll be back, especially given the growing success of his newly released album. But I digress. Next time, hopefully we’ll get to see the Manuvadelics band backing Smith. Even if it takes another half-decade, I’d book my ticket in advance.

[The Ear Exam is currently on hiatus, but will return with a couple of surprises soon.]

By Korgüll The Destroyer - Metal for Supper - The Afternoon Edition - 03/22/2005

This trend of old bands going back to their roots has produced some very enjoyable and somewhat nostalgic albums. The last two albums by Kreator were well-executed examples if not a bit derivative, having forgone all progression the band had made (we won’t debate the pros/cons of this here). Nevertheless, a good album is a good album. Unfortunately, it seems to have helped spur this whole resurgence of retro thrash metal. Which brings us to Overkill, one such band looking to take advantage of this situation. Now honestly, this album could have been a real disaster. Not being very familiar with their past work, this album gives me the impression that Overkill at least have a decent grasp of what they are doing. The songs are simple and straightforward, most crunching along at a mid-tempo pace, with the exceptions of “A Pound of Flesh” and “Old School” tearing things up with a sound that is much more thrash than the rest of the album. The latter song was actually very fun at first, having an old-school punk kind of feel to it which made the song very amusing despite its corny “yay metal, yay Overkill” lyrical theme. Listening to the album again after having put it down for about a month, I discovered the song had lost most of its appeal, and that the rest of the album was just pretty dull. I might listen to this everyone now and again, but when I find myself in the mood for some thrash, I think I’ll listen to Kreator instead. I recommend you do the same as well.