Sunday: We took a walk through Old Town Alexandria, and promptly encountered a parade of dogs in Halloween costume. Very weird. (keep walking, look normal...it could be a hallucination). Then, where King Street meets the Potomac, we discovered Curtis the blues-man (above), serenading a balloon-wielding blues fan. A decent, mellow end to a fine Autumn weekend.
Of course I realize that I'm following an entry of live music pix with ANOTHER entry of live music pix, but what could I do, this was THEE MAXIMALISTS, dammit!
For the unaware, the core lineup qualifies Thee Maximalists as a veritable supergroup: Paul Sears (of The Muffins, drums), Yanni Papadopoulos (of Stinking Lizaveta, guitars & guitar-like appendages), and Keith Macksound (of Present, bass) concoct a truly un-rehearsed mash of ProgJazzNoiseRock that will overjoy the strong and reduce the weak to tears.
Saturday was their leaping, gnashing, vile debut upon the Old Town Theater stage. A fantastic performance (although not quite as 'gnashing' as their blast at Orion earlier this year, but then, that's improv for you). There is a larger incarnation of Thee Maximalists, which includes an improv vocalist and a mellotron player (!!!!!) so please tattoo this into your brain for future times: they don't play out often (members are scattered far & wide across this earth), but when they do... one must attend.
The headlining performer was one Cyndee-Lee Rule: an electric violin virtuoso who treated the Theater to a heady mix of TechnoProgSpaceRock, including a scorching cover of Hawkwind's "Hassan I Sahba" as well as an Irish reel that owed as much to stomping drum programming as it did to the Northern pubs. She joined Thee Maximalists briefly during the end of their set, and the chemistry was perfect (lads, consider this for future gigs).
In all, a charming evening, sadly under-attended like the Spaceseed gig. Where were you, my children? (for more pix, see the Flickr collection here.)
Very light attendance, at the Old Town Theater on Friday. Those lucky few (20, to be exact) who turned up were treated to a very special evening indeed. Local mad-scientist John Battema opened the show with an impressive wall of spacious synth noise. It was like a blissful mix of the intricate dynamics of Klaus Schulze and the full-on attack of Merzbow. The set was too short, but SPACESEED (above) was to follow...with added punch via the SOLAR FIRE lightshow.
Joining Spaceseed was veteran Hawkwind keyboardist Harvey Bainbridge (inset). After a brief set of Spaceseed originals, Harvey did a solo set of his own brand of electronic freakout heaviness. We all became elastic ghosts, being drawn into the black hole at the center of the projection screen...stretched into thin jelly ribbons, spiralling around the stage like glowing eels...acid-soaked spermatazoa in blind pursuit of that egg of sound...
Then, Spaceseed took the stage again for a final set of classic Hawkwind covers (including a fiercely extended version of "You Shouldn't Do That" which, for all serious Hawkwind geeks, would be worth the price of admission...It all wrapped up shortly after 1:00am, and the long Metro ride from Alexandria passed in a fatigued blur.
In conclusion, I offer a public safety message:
An intersection blinking RED at 2:15 in the morning is to be treated as a four-way stop. I believe this fact is covered in most high-school Drivers Ed courses. As I passed one such intersection, on my way home from the gig, two vehicles exploded into each other with unbelievable force. Vehicle 1 compacted into a mangled fist. The broadsided Vehicle 2 catapulted in a sideways, hurling roll into some shrubs twenty-odd yards away. Really. Seriously. If I had crossed at the light (and not jaywalked in my urgent pursuit of a bathroom), I would have been UNDER the wreckage of the thrown vehicle.
So please, drivers: GET OVER your inflated sense of urgency, you arrogant pinhead bastards. Rather than calling for help, any witnesses should have beaten you to DEATH with their cellphones. NONE OF YOU are too cool, sexy, or important to have your life suddenly jarred out of your body to scream at the mocking stars while they pull your remains out of a mangled car. And worse than that, your self-absorbed suicide would inconvenience others who might have READ their drivers' manuals. What a waste.
There. 'nuff soapboxin'... It was a great show.
