Sonic Circuits benefit II

The Sonic Circuits festival of experimental music looms ever closer. Hear that rumbling in the distance? It's the sound of unique, artful, compelling, unexpected music. The perfect antidote to formula entertainment.

As reported earlier, a series of benefit shows has been launched to help defray the cost of this mighty thing. The second benefit is coming up soon, at the Pyramid Atlantic art space in Silver Spring. Click the flyer for larger version. Further details below, courtesy of the festival curator:

SONIC CIRCUITS FESTIVAL 2008
BENEFIT II
Sunday, August 24
Doors 6:30pm Music 7:00pm SHARP
admission: $5.00 at the door

PYRAMID ATLANTIC
8230 Georgia Avenue, Silver Spring MD 20910
301.608.9101
located three blocks south of the silver spring metro station (red line)
INFO + DIRECTIONS: www.pyramidatlanticartcenter.org

MACAROON FIVE:
Arthur Harrison is the president and CEO of Harrison Instruments, Inc., a Maryland-based company that designs and manufactures electronics for a wide range of applications, including electronic musical instruments. Arthur has over 30 years of experience with electronic music, and has performed on theremin for a decade. His work appears on numerous audio recordings and sound tracks, and he is considered one of the world's technical authorities on the theremin, with his circuit designs implemented by electronic music enthusiasts, world-over.

barsky / allison
From Insect Factory & Kohoutek on guitar and custom electronics
http://www.myspace.com/insectfactory

T.A. ZOOK
Analog sound generations with struck bowls, rainsticks, wind instruments and guitars processed through racks of loopers/fx -- an otherworldly ambience that's difficult to describe; once heard, difficult to forget. (http://www.myspace.com/tazook) Think: music from a temple in an extraterrestrial dream, emanating from the aether and enveloping you in some indescribable way.
http://www.myspace.com/tazook

[flyer design IntangibleArts]

Sonic Circuits 2008: a teaser

DC is about to host one of the most crucial celebrations of experimental music in the country. Again. We are truly blessed.

This year's Sonic Circuits festival is stirring in the womb and the contractions have started already, with a series of benefit concerts at the Pyramid Atlantic art space in Silver Spring. The first of these was held on July 13th with TL0741, Pinko Communoids, and a Violet + BLK w/Bear collaboration. A second benefit has been set for August 24th (performers TBA).

The flyer above is just a teaser (another classic by IntangibleArts, click it for mo' bigga). The full schedule is still being worked out, but we do have the span of dates and the names of some of the heavy-hitters in the lineup. There will be many more added to the list in the weeks to come, not the least of which is IntangibleArts' own BLUE SAUSAGE INFANT, scheduled for the fest's opening night at the Velvet Lounge.

Watch this space or the festival homepage [here] for updates. In the meantime, get cranked for a week of unexplainable, unpredictable, and irreproduceable music in early October. And go to the benefit on August 24th. Abandon all expectations and embrace raw adventure with your malleus, your incus, and yes, even your stapes.

To whet the appetite, a brief slice of the July 13 benefit at the Pyramid Atlantic: A bit of turntable collaboration between Violet and BLK w/BEAR:

Sonic Circuits benefit this sunday

AN EVENT NOT TO BE MISSED! This will be a special gig to benefit this year's Sonic Circuits festival of experimental music. As you can imagine, putting on these festivals is an expensive affair, with securing the venues and taking care of performers traveling from distant lands... So yes, it's a benefit. And a blitz of crucial music it shall be as well.

More on the actual festival as it approaches (late sept to early oct), but for now, the goods on Sunday's show:

PINKO COMMUNOIDS create a dynamic improvised sound between its three members, using everything from guitars and accordions to found items and bent electronics. The result is an unpredictable bath of sound which covers a wide dynamic range: everything from tickled silence to drones soaked in warm feedback. It's curious music, full of brain vitamins.

TL0741 is the solo electronic project of Pat Gillis. His sound offers a satisfying mix of the playful, the surreal, and the harsh; it never stays still for long. Over a substrate of bubbling sonic ooze (robotic magma?) you might find blasts of static, high-pitched synthetic wind, capsules of vertigo, croaking strangeness... billowing sheets of sound with an edge of menace. Good stuff.

VLT_BLK is a live collaboration between VIOLET and BLK w/ BEAR. The music of VIOLET is often harsh yet precise and delicate, using unusual items (dry ice, autoharp, turntables, aluminum foil) to build layers of monumental and very satisfying noise. Meanwhile, BLK w/ BEAR uses turntables, cello, bass, and effects to create deep drones and heavy trances that can be beautiful or saturated with paranoia. Or ideally, both.

It seems that the VLT_BLK collaboration might be a duelling-turntables situation, which could be pretty devastating.

So get yourself to the Pyramid Atlantic in Silver Spring on Sunday night. Support the future of Sonic Circuits and get a taste of what you'll be in for, when the festival is unleashed later this year. Check the artists' links for audio samples. Other details on the flyer.

Speaking of which, flyer design by IntangibleArts. Click the image for higher-resolution version (or here for an even higher-higher-res version), and distribute at will.

THE ELECTRIC POSSIBLE: June 1, 2008

Since I tend to write capsule reviews of experimental music performances in DC, I suppose a recap of Sunday's event is in order, since I'd been hyping it for a few weeks. And not to toot my own (so to speak) but it was an enjoyable return to live performance after some time spent away from the muse... (& thanks to Marian for shootin' it)

The venue was a classroom in the basement of GWU's Phillips Hall, and even with acoustic buffers in the ceiling, it was a challenge to do any delicate mixing: The whole thing was mixed based on the reverberating roar of noise bouncing off the back of the room. But the PA seemed plenty loud enough, at least.

Mine (Blue Sausage Infant) was a 25-minute improvised set that began with darkly ambient tones and vocals, which mounted into a frenzy of rhythmic self-indulgence. Case in point:


It can be quite fun to amplify and distort the shit out of a pink toy guitar and violate it with an electric razor for a while, as a bhangra drum loop, short-wave static, tremolo-distorted harmonica loops, and moog synth waves do their thing on auto-pilot...

Eventually, the freakout wound down, and returned to the mellow dreamy stuff, with native american flute layered over breathing loops and meditation instructions... Totally self-indulgent and ripping good fun.


Next up was Field Shaman, whose expansive sonic textures filled the room with equal parts sound and silence, sweetness and tension... Using only guitar, cello, vocals, and a b'zillion effect pedals.


The effected cello provided a phasing wind for the guitar's rhythmic patterns and whispered words; very heady stuff; zero-gravity music. Calm, menacing, melancholy, and spacious.


Closing the show was Violet, with a typically minimal-yet-intense wall of sound, using the trusty turntable-with-aluminum foil (i think), autoharp, effects, and whatever-the-heck else he had hidden behind the podium. It began with a blistering, strong carpet of hairy, throbbing, rolling noise, chopping into quieter passages, building layers of turntable crackles and pops, eventually building a final mountain of roaring tones and piercing frequencies before the whole thing stopped suddenly...

A damned fine evening. Many thanks to Jeff Bagato for hosting the event, and for providing an outlet for unique local music. Further Blue Sausage Infant activities will be announced here. And for more info on future Electric Possible events, dig the site here.

THIS SUNDAY: Bringing the noise

Just a reminder: You have plans this Sunday night in Georgetown.

The Electric Possible's organizer Jeff Bagato tags these events a "mad monthly laboratory for Promethean sound experiments" and that seems accurate.

But this weekend's event is crucial:

Your intangible narrator is celebrating the 20th anniversary of the BLUE SAUSAGE INFANT project, which began in a tiny apartment on 16th Street in 1988, with only a guitar, some aluminum ducts, a toy drum-kit, an open-reel tape machine, and a plastic Casio sampler. The equipment has changed since then, but the mission is still, simply, to build a hypnotic swirl of improvised music, and to have insane fun while doing it.

After several relocations across the country, the INFANT is back home and making hypno-surrealist noise in DC again, using a mix of electronics, weird acoustics, and whatever else I can find...

Also up is VIOLET, who's approach to drone and noise-music has been legendary in the DC area (and elsewhere, via overseas tours) for decades. And FIELD SHAMAN creates vast carpets of ambient soundscapes, using voice, cello, guitar, and ??? -- All highly recommended.

Details on the when-and-what on the flyer above. Click it for a higher-resolution version. And I'll see you at the 'Possible.

BSI to be reborn on June 1

I was active in the DC experimental music scene in the mid to late '80s: Played a bunch of shows at venues that no longer exist (DC Space, BBQ Iguana) and a few that DO still exist (DC Arts Center, Takoma Park planetarium, WMUC, the Alternatives Festival in Dupont Circle). It was a vibrant and creative time for local noise bands and avant garde improvisers.

After moving to upstate NY, live performances dwindled (Syracuse isn't much of a "psychedelic noise" town), so I retreated to the home studio. I played just one show during that period: a collaborative effort with NYC's Changes to Blind, at the Last Exit in Troy, NY (another great venue lost to history). Moved to Tucson, and by 2001, all music had stopped. Even coming back to DC didn't break the inertia.

Fast-forward to 2008.

An epiphany struck: The first cassette I did as Blue Sausage Infant (Trance Warfare) was born in the winter of 1988. Jesus, that's...twenty years, innit? Suddenly, the prospect of BSI having a 20th anniversary seemed profound enough to kick up the noise once again.

It's evolving every day, but the new sound of BSI is louder and stranger; more disorienting, blissful, self-indulgent, and FUN than it ever was before. This is music for swaying on the floor like an idiot while drooling on your shoes and letting your pupils dilate until they swallow the room in a pool of sticky black shadows. And that's before the fleet of jellied owls begin vomiting fire into the air and making tiny constellations and galaxies with the burning embers.... dig?

Dig!

Anyway: The rebirth will be June 1st at The Electric Possible, which is a monthly series of experimental music events at George Washington University. El Possible has been going on consistently for five years already, on the first Sunday of each month. See the poster above for show details (click the dirty space koala for magnification).

Also on the bill is Violet, who has been a comrade of BSI since the early days. In fact he's the only one from that circle who's been making music all this time. The Violet sound can be lo-fi loops and drones, or blistering walls of distorted noise...but always very satisfying. I haven't seen Field Shaman yet, but what evidence I've heard online is very promising. This could be a new Golden Age for DC experimental music.

So be brave. Descend into the bowels of Georgetown on Sunday, June 1st. The consciousness expansion begins at 8pm sharp.

There. Shameless self-promotion now concludes. Samples of older, less relevant BSI can be found here.

Remaining 9353 shows cancelled

Just a quick alert for The Faithful: the hometown 9353 tour is killed.

Legendary, ever-mutating DC punk/psych/surf/goth/sci-fi/strangeness band 9353 launched a series of dates last week, with gigs planned at the Velvet Lounge, Rock & Roll Hotel, Asylum, and a couple at the Quarry House in Silver Spring. Fearless Leader Bruce (pictured) said it would be their last great purge of old material, before moving on to bold, crescent-fresh new stuff.

Actually, he didn't say crescent-fresh. That was me--I'm still mourning the loss of Sifl and Olly. But that's another story.

Then the Asylum and R&R Hotel gigs were cancelled, leaving the two at Quarry House, slated for tonight and tomorrow night. Now those are gone. Drag.

The short version is, simply, the sudden loss of a band-member to "the penal system" yesterday morning and general unrest within the ranks. And 24 hours is just a bit tight to replace someone. But as BH says on a myspace bulletin, "Bruce and Vance vow to return as 9353 very very soon."

Thus proving: Just like viruses, cockroaches, certain grades of plastic, and Ben Stein, 9353 will live forever in some form or another. And that is a very good thing.

So, DC oldtimers, patience...

April Fuels the Fool

Just a couple of brief items this time. Some light housekeeping:

ITEM 1: The latest guest post by Your Humble Narrator is now stuck to the wall over at Prince of Petworth. Autographs in the lobby. BYOB. You must be "this" tall to ride. Thank you.

ITEM 2: With the recent purchase of a new mixer and a pair of monitors, the home studio is finally complete. This means BlueSausageInfant is set to rise again after 8 years of distractions, creative blocks, relocations, a demanding job scene, and a hundred other excuses. So later this year, MAD PSYCHEDELIC NOISE will be made at various live venues in DC. Yeehaw!

Weird and somewhat related historic artifact: The photo above. It's from the summer of 1988, Dupont Circle, during the Alternatives Festival. As PYTHAGORAS, we made a mighty racket with just open-reel tape loops, samples, a shortwave radio, some contact-miked aluminum scraps, and Jerry's amazing guitar abuse.

These days, DC seems much more friendly to the whole experimental music scene (check the Velvet Lounge's schedule for evidence). So we'll see. Watch this space for further announcements.

ITEM 3: DC United's home opener against Toronto is this Saturday. And as a strange kind of "silver lining" thing, we ended up with a better pair of seats, thanks to M's broken knee. They tell me the view will be awesome from the "handicapped" seats at RFK.

United is in Mexico today for the CONCACAF Champion's Cup semifinal, where I'm sure they'll do better than the season opener (0-2 vs. Kansas City). After that, we send the Canadians back home whimpering. Because it must be so.

ITEM 4: Finally, in honor of April Fools Day, a historic prank (from Wikipedia):

The BBC television programme Panorama ran a famous hoax in 1957, showing the Swiss harvesting spaghetti from trees. They had claimed that the despised pest the spaghetti weevil had been eradicated. A large number of people contacted the BBC wanting to know how to cultivate their own spaghetti trees.

Orpheus Mon Amor

I'm a bit late in posting this, but for all the vinyl addicts in the area, there's still time if you hustle down to Arlington THIS WEEK...

The news of Orpheus Records' closing was made public a while ago, and The Faithful have been flocking to the Wilson Boulevard shop ever since, to pick the bones of that poor, dying beast.

When I got there, Carl (longtime Intangible Comrade and, conveniently, part-time employee of the shop) informed me that, to paraphrase:

It's a good thing you made it this weekend: We've had no word from the landlord (re: extended lease arrangements) which means by default, the store is dead next weekend, and Rick will be packing up the store on Saturday...

So, pardon the Old English expression (or is it Germanic?) but holy shit!

So this is it, then? I asked if the remaining stock was all going to some kind of graveyard auction. Nope, he said, anything not sold is going into storage. And THAT would likely be a whole shop's worth of records right there, no matter how much he sells before next weekend.

I had already assumed this would be my last trip to the store before it finally closed, since it isn't THAT easy to get from my place in DC to the shop in Arlington... but I also assumed that we still had another couple of weeks with the old place.

Anyway.

I've been reading Nick Hornby's excellent memoir Fever Pitch, which marks the significant events in the author's life against Arsenal matches. Thus, it's a life viewed through the eyes of a hopeless obsessive. In Hornby's case, it's an addiction to English football culture. And there are loads of incisive, perfectly worded bits in that book that describe the obsessive personality, from the inside.

In my case, it isn't soccer (although that could happen as well, as soon as DCU starts kicking this season), it's a record-collecting fixation. So Hornby's other book (High Fidelity) might be more appropriate.

So. Last chance at an Orpheus run. Fine. Pick the bones like a ruthless buzzard. Start at A, and work down to Z...

The bins were pretty well picked through, so it became an exercise in collecting "filler" material. That would be albums I have on CD, which I previously had on vinyl, but sold years ago when CDs came out, BUT now will re-purchase on vinyl and sell the CDs. This is because I've finally come to my senses and realized that VINYL is the ultimate form of musical permanence. And CDs are just temporal fluff. That's right, bloody "technology"... you heard me.

So the "filler" consisted mostly of 80s semi-underground pop that I'm too nerdish to resist: Nina Hagen, XTC, Oingo Boingo, that kind of thing. And some headier stuff: Nektar, Jane, and a still-sealed copy of The Muffins' Open City...And, after passing it by for years, I finally bought the lone copy of "Jehova" My Black Ass by Peach of Immortality (infamous local '80s noise band, one member of which went on to form Jackhammer Orchestra, Furnace, and the more successful Chemlab)...

Fifteen albums for $53 is a good day.

I was going to take a last-chance photo of the Orpheus storefront, but it didn't feel right. It was like taking a portrait of a dying friend in a hospital bed. Weird vibes. And with a heavy sigh, I hauled my goodies down to the Clarendon Metro. And home.

Crap: As I waited for the train, I remembered I already had a freaking vinyl copy of Open City. So call me the ultimate Muffins fan. Or an imbecile. Call it the fog of war. Other collectors would understand.

DC Sorrow is dead...

I got a call yesterday.

It was a voicemail from some anonymous humanoid deep within the vast super-hive of the TicketMaster Corporation... It sounded female but it could've been a computer simulation...

The show to which I had bought two tickets, as she said: "thee....... Pretty THINGS... at the Black Cat in......Worshington DEE-SEE...." had been canceled. And my credit card would be credited immediately.

Oh shit.

Well, eh, easy come, easy go. But obviously, your humble narrator was hot to see the show, as evidenced by all that slobbering weirdness a few posts back.

So I went online to see if I could suss what happened. And the Pretty Things' European booking agency's website was down.

Then I went to Arthur Brown's site, since I had been equally thrilled at the prospect of seeing the God of Hellfire himself that night. And in a post dated Feb 9th was a harsh little one-liner that read:

Arthur is not touring with the Pretty Things in the USA in April and he never was.

So, something is amiss here. The show was to be a breakthrough for us, since Mrs. Intangible expressed interest in actually going to this one. Well, I've played the Pretty Things albums SF Sorrow and Parachute around the house endlessly, so she knew that material.

And of course, the Crazy World of Arthur Brown album is one of those records that made me what I am today. For better or for (much) worse...

So this would've been our first club date since we did that duel in Tucson years ago, where she took me to see Charlie Daniels Band and I responded with Stereolab and the Olivia Tremor Control at the Rialto.

Now THERE's a good test of a relationship.

But that's all beside the point. There's some intrigue going on between the Pretties, Arthur Brown, and the tour agency. But if anyone was interested, the point is, the Black Cat date is killed. Alas.

DC Sorrow is born!

Great Vivian Prince's ghost, do my eyes deceive me?

So I was determined to take a stroll during lunch, in honor of the awesome weather (cool, gray, breezy, almost rain)...

Passing the front windows of the Black Cat, paused to scan the board for upcoming shows, and The Pretty Things jumped out at me like a stoned jack-in-the-box on fire, wrapped in glowing, squid-like tentacles...and dammit, you know I can't resist a cosmic squid-like tentacle now and then.

HOLY CRAP: The Pretty Things are coming to town. Friday 11april.


For the unaware: Absolutely essential 60s rock band. Early albums are great blues rock but more popish, and some have unfortunate producer add-ons like studio horn players (as in the Emotions lp, 1967), but with 1968's S.F. Sorrow, these cats became heroes. It was a rocking psychedelic masterpiece. One of the ten best albums of all time. Damn straight.

So this makes the surviving band members a bunch of geezers trying to grasp one last shot before being cast off to die in peace, yeh?

Not so! Their surprise comeback release Rage Before Beauty in 1999 proved they still have some life left, and while it isn't nearly their best work, it had some convincing moments.

There's also the DVD of the Pretty Things playing the SF Sorrow material live at Abbey Road, in 1998. And they did a fantastic job of it. The where-the-hell-did-he-come-from guitar solo by Dave Gilmour wasn't even too distracting: He sort of appeared and vanished like a prankster ghost. But the band was in great form.

So that's the history lesson.


I got back to the office and checked the Black Cat's schedule. And sure enough, it's real. But, what's this? Arthur Brown on the bill as well? Jumping Manatee Beans! This Intangible Head needs to sit down. Too much excitement.

CREDIT: Tour poster courtesy of IDB Booking.

Orpheus and the death rattle

Ah, screw it.

I was going to write a very long-winded and tear-jerking elegy to Orpheus Records, one of the last great vinyl record stores in the greater DC area. I was going to sing the death-song of a musical mecca. I was going to provide an amazing amount of insider reporting and weepy, record-collector saliva.

But ehh, screw it.

Marc Fisher did a great piece in the Post about it here, and blogger brethren Vinyl District mirrored it here. I could pursue my sources and try to provide something new, but........eh, screw it. It's all been done. We've been to this funeral already, for other shops.

In fact, the store is uniquely valuable for that reason: Orpheus owner Rick Carlisle ended up with the bulk of the remaining stock from legendary Silver Spring record store Vinyl Ink, after George Gelastino died several years ago. George had closed his store on Bonifant Street to go exclusively online, and even THAT was a local tragedy for us old farts who love the classic vinyl-flipping ritual. Record-shopping in person. In the flesh.


Sure, we can still get our fix by purchasing records online, but it's the thrill of the hunt, dammit, we love the dusty fingers, the shock of the unexpected discovery:

(Oh SHIT, I was here in the miscellaneous 'G' section, hoping to find some old Brain-label Grobschnitt records, but here they have some early Guru Guru! Jesus!)

If you don't have the disease, you wouldn't understand. But shops like Vinyl Ink and Orpheus were really good for that.

Anyway, the bottom line is, the lease is up on the site where Orpheus now resides and, years after Rick moved the shop from Georgetown, he doesn't have another move in him. The neighborhood is gentrifying beyond recognition. And besides, Rick has been in this business for a king's age. So the shop will die slowly, over the next few weeks. Sale prices, etc.


So get down there while you can. Orpheus has been one of the only things that can get me to cross the river, for crissakes. So once the store is shuttered for good, I may never set foot on Virginian soil anymore. Unless of course Ben Chasny plays Iota again.

So, while the patient still lives:
Orpheus Records
3173 Wilson Blvd, Arlington VA
...mere shouting distance from the Clarendon Metro.

Six Organs of Admittance

I owe my fascination with Ben Chasny's music to comrade Quisp Quake, who had a phenomenal radio show at Colby College's WMHB in Waterville, Maine. Several times during my episode in Bangor, I'd go down there with a box of CDs and co-host the show with him.

It was a great format, dubbed Dueling Freaks: We'd take half-hour shifts and devastate each other with recent musical discoveries. It was totally self-indulgent, but good fun. And a great way to ward off the Maine winter swirling outside the studio.

One of the tracks Quake played was something by Six Organs of Admittance called "It Was Written", from a split 7". It was decidedly lo-fi: just guitar, vocal, and hand percussion, but something was bubbling inside. It was spacious and folksy and trancelike. It was vastly psychedelic, yet minimal.

I was immediately hooked.

Fast-forward to 24jan08: Six Organs was scheduled to play at IOTA in Arlington. Immediately, snap into action! Start figuring out how to make the show while taking care of a young dog that needs to pee regularly, and a wife who is nursing a broken knee and is thus quite immobile... BAH! It must be done!

Opening the show was DC's own Kohoutek, who droned out a very strong, hairy wall of psychedelic trance-rock. It was hard to figure how much of it was improvised, and/or how much of a structure was worked out beforehand, but it came across like a fairly telepathic jam, with alternating passages of riff and loose noodling. The set sounded like the louder side of early Ash Ra Tempel, or The Spacious Mind, or maybe F/i... Not a bad thing, if you can pull it off. And they did.

This time, Six Organs of Admittance was an almost-duet, consisting of Ben Chasny and Elisa Ambrogio (of Magik Markers fame).


The first half of the set was Chasny solo, performing a selection of quieter numbers from the back catalog. It was truly awesome to hear favorites like "Spirits Abandoned" and "This Hand" (both from the excellent Dark Noontide lp); slow and haunting and full of color and wind.


Eventually, Chasny was joined by Elisa, who provided chanting vocal harmonies and some guitar support, and then they promptly exploded: I forget what the hell tune it was ("Dance Among the Waiting" maybe?), which grew from a low mantra to a swirling vortex of amplified crackling bees. Elisa stomped the bees out of her guitar, wailing a pungent stew of noise like a cyclone of dreaming devils, while Chasny churned his own blast of guitar heaviness. Both of them were weaving a very large braid of noise that filled Iota like a sunburst.


A click of a pedal, and we're back to the mellow side... It was magical shit, children.

I had to boogie as soon as it was over, and get back to Marian's broken leg and the dog's full bladder. So: no time to linger and schmooze. Hit the merch table, score some choice vinyl (the new 6 Organs lp, plus the out-of-print Basalt Fingers lp), and hustle through the frigid winter night...

It was a damned fine evening.

Day has turned to night.

No photo, just a brief item: Thanks to the blog at WFMU, I've just learned that Dave Day, legendary electric banjo superstar of The Monks, died last week (10jan) of heart failure and "massive brain injury"... Of course no man is immortal, but damn.

His attack on that poor instrument made their 1966 album BLACK MONK TIME one of the finest, weirdest, most awesome bit of amphetamine stomp ever recorded. And as the classic German TV footage shows (see the link), the man had a blast doing it.

Sonic Circuits 2007

I could only make it to two gigs in the festival this year, but I had to do my part here, to glorify and promote one of DC’s finest musical happenings...in the hopes that there will be another next year.

The Sonic Circuits festival of experimental music was greatly expanded for 2007, with a schedule that spanned 17 nights and some 60 performers. The musical range was vast, covering laptop/glitch electronica, lo-fi acoustic improv, guitar-pedal-driven walls of drone, full force power-noise, and a universe of invented sounds that were unique to each performer.

Jeff Surak (a.k.a. Violet, and formerly of V., 1348, New Carrollton, and founder of Zeromoon) was the organizing muscle behind the fest, and he made sure the lineup contained a healthy dose of local performers, as well as international acts to bring in the crowds.

So here are a few shots, in no particular order, from shows at the Warehouse Theater on september 8 and 21. Captions underneath.


TONY CONRAD & VIOLENT RAID ended the show on Sept 21 with an hour-plus of very heavy monotone, via Conrad’s violin and Violent Raid’s distorted cello and open-reel tapes. It was a punishing onslaught, just one note which built and released tension throughout the performance. By the end, I believe, only one violin string remained on that poor instrument. The audience was a devastated wasteland of bodies.


THE CUTEST PUPPY IN THE WORLD offered an elegant mix of acoustics and electronics. The two puppies in question (Layne Garrett=pictured, with Bryan Rhodes) improvised well together, producing a surreal bath of textures with enough changes and shifts to keep things fascinating. And these cats are from DC? Why have I not heard of ‘em until now? Damn this living-under-a-rock thing. I must get out more.


NOVELLER’s sound seemed entirely generated from a double-necked guitar fed into a bank of pedals and signal processors. Tones were created by plucking, bowing, and e-bowing, and built upon by live-looping and further processing. The dynamics were gorgeous and full and huge, sweeping from delicate to full-on Godzilla-strength. Hers was easily my favorite performance of the Sept 8 gig.


Speaking of “easy favorites,” ALL VIOLET gets the prize for the Sept.21 show. Jeff Surak and Scott Allison opened the evening, and set the bar very high for the bands that followed. An intro of fragile static, like distant shortwave radio transmissions, gave way to a tremendous tsunami of mad noise that didn’t relent until the performance was over. A stuttering growl of sub-bass was topped with a perfect dash of high-end harshness, and Surak’s classic amplified garden hose (ahh, how the sight of that hose caused a few flashbacks to New Carrollton performances in the ‘80s).


TWILIGHT MEMORIES OF THE THREE SUNS (from Gaithersburg MD, I think) brought on the heavy mad-scientist vibe, by combining open-mike feedback, bug-zapping lights, scraping/smashing plate glass, machine-vibrating steel springs, and god knows what-all. The glass-smashing did make some visibly nervous, but it added enough good meat to the sound to avoid being dismissed as theatrical cheapness.


The chief glass-smasher appeared later in the evening, sporting the wedding dress he performed in earlier (now dotted with appropriately subtle bloodstains), to bash out a cymbal solo that was so harsh, even the most curious observers could handle only a minute or two, before leaving with hands over ears.

Anyway.

It was impossible to catch all the Sonic Circuit events, but it was a vital festival for all who appreciate unpredictable music. If I can stay on my current creative roll and keep my ass focused, I’ll try to worm into a spot on the bill next year. (Surak? Think about it!)

The current level of “experimental music” activity in DC is tremendous. I used to think of the late ‘80s as a Golden Age for this kind of thing, but it seems that NOW, there are creative forces lurking in the ‘district and nearby suburbs that make previous golden ages seem like mere soundchecks for what’s to come.

Top photo: Corridors, during the Sept 8th gig.

The return of 9353

It was an honor to have a hand in the new 9353 flyer, currently being ripped to shreds off walls across Montgomery County. Those uncooth Maryland bastards.

I do believe this will be a gig of the ages.

Paul (also of The Muffins and Thee Maximalists) is the new drummer for 9353 this time around, and he's a perfect fit for the band: Paul's style is jazzy, spontaneous, and INSANELY STRONG; he's the mad yeti in the room, and his brief association with Magma is clear; who else could beat the hell out of things next to a madman like Vander?

Anyway. Rumor has it the new 9353 has been practicing like beasts in a secret, subterranean laboratory in Baltimore for quite a while, and the result, to quote an insider, is F*CKED.....UP! ...in a good way, of course.

I'm expecting a magical show this Friday. Opening are King Giant and Rustbuckit. Friday, 7sept07 at the 9:30 club.

Report from the trenches: Soundclash, 5th Anniversary

Mount Pleasant is, pleasantly enough, one neighborhood that hasn’t undergone massive rebuilding since I lived in the area almost 20 years ago.

Today, if I stand at the north side of the strip and squint past the white-folk (certainly more of them now), it could still be 1988; there’s still a lot of character here. Signs of “progress” in the neighborhood are refreshingly subtle: My old laundromat has been replaced by a newer, cleaner laundromat. But I still have fond memories of sitting on the washing machine to prevent that Crazy Homeless Kickboxer Guy from stealing my laundry in mid-spin cycle....

Crazy Homeless Kickboxer Guy is long gone, but one addition to the Mt.Pleasant strip is Marx Cafe, formerly a Mexican restaurant & mariachi venue. The bar’s signage is curiously invisible--You could walk right past the place without knowing it, unless it’s the last Friday night of the month, when Soundclash swells against the doors with a full spectrum of reggae tunes.

Soundclash began in 2002 as a collective effort of four DJs with a healthy obsession for Jamaican oldies: Sammy Gong, Kaiser, Rice ‘n’ Peas, and Paul (real names will not be used here, as it would double the typing involved. To hell with it). Paul left town for the greater sins of Las Vegas, and some three years ago, Bobby Babylon joined the ranks.


Friday, June 29th was the 5th anniversary Soundclash gig, and a great crowd had turned up, despite the lack of local online/media coverage.

“A great crowd”? Jeezus dude, by 11:30, you couldn’t get to the bar without assuming the role of a determined sperm, rushing an egg through a sea of spermy competitors. The Red Stripes were lukewarm, but who cares. DeKoninck was on tap, as always, and there was a special Jamaican rum brew, mixed for the occasion.

I’ve had my share of improvised rummy mixes ladelled out of spackle buckets, so I decided to pass on it here, but by the look of the crowd, it must’ve been working...

The tunes were plentiful: a mix of dancehall, roots reggae, and a smattering of gorgeous dub, pulled from albums, rare 7” singles, and CDs. The crowd seemed universally pleased. The limited edition, Sammy Gong-designed Soundclash t-shirts were sold out very quickly.

That t-shirt design is terminated, says Gong...There may be other shirts, but this one is history. Art is fleeting, just like life.


T-shirts, mix CDs, and Trojan Records box sets were dispersed at the midnight raffle, after which the tunes came roaring back. By this time, crowd density had made “movement” impossible. Bodies everywhere. Bodies dancing, nodding, gyrating, drinking, falling down in swirls of delirium, and plowing desperately through the undulating mass to find the newly renovated bathroom...

I made it until about 2:30am, at which time I realized I’m officially an old fart now, and late nights like this aren’t as easy as they used to be. There was a bed with my name on it, just a few blocks to the east. Damn that bed.

As for Soundclash, there’s no plan to stop the thing. For the forseeable future, you can catch the madness at Marx Cafe (3203 Mt.Pleasant St. NW) on the last friday of each month. Most times, the crowd isn't nearly as intense, but it's certainly worth the effort. Damn that bed.

BREAKING NEWS: 12:42pm: As it turns out, there were a few t-shirts left after the event. So you shoulda been there, bub. You'd have that shirt by now. How's that for accuracy in media, eh?

Absolut Maximalism!

And so it came to pass, that THEE MAXIMALISTS did gather in a small studio space in Baltimore before a teeny audience of dedicated fans and weirdos, and lo, they did make one hell of a fantastic noise.

Thee Maximalists is the brainchild of Muffins drummer Paul Sears. The music is all improvised, using something like the concept of free jazz with the instrumentation of rock, with occasional prog touches (via Jim Rezek and his magical mellotrons). The most stable root of the band is Sears and Keith Macksoud, bassist from the very fine Present. Add to this an unpredictable rotation of highly skilled musical creatures, who thus far has included Yanni Papadopoulos (guitar: Stinking Lizaveta), Dave Newhouse (saxes & keyboard: Muffins), Marshall Allen (saxes: Sun Ra Arkestra), Mark Stanley (guitar: Farquhar), Werbinox (vocals), Elliott Levin (saxes & poetry: Cecil Taylor, Marshall Allen, others), Cyndee Lee Rule (violin), Rick Iannacone (guitar: Jamaaladeen Takuma, others), and God knows what other characters are waiting in the wings... it makes a Maximalists gig something like a tiny, private supernova... a unique moment in time/space, not to be repeated.

Each has brought unique, world-class musical skill to this heady, self-indulgent stew of sound, and it comes across like an extremely fun romp in the playground for these folks. It's particularly enjoyable to witness Keith Macksoud build spontaneous rhythmic structures with Sears, considering the highly practiced precision of Present's music. Maximalists gigs must be like a freeform vacation for these folks.


But enough setup! The Baltimore performance of November 11 was a classic evening for Maximalist freaks. This time, the band was Sears/Macksoud/Newhouse/Levin/Iannacone, and the mixture was perfect. The music was much more of a free-jazz blast this time around, thanks to Elliott Levin and his massive presence with the tenor and toy saxes... Once he gets going, man, just sit the hell down and ride it out.


Dave Newhouse is always a welcome addition. When at the keyboard, he provides an airy trance structure of repeating passages and chords that echo the best Muffins moments. He complements the heavy bed of rhythm that Sears and Macksoud lay down with his own tonal patterns, letting the others fly free... But of course, Newhouse is a master on the brass as well, and his baritone is a hot sound for the Maximalists' madness.


Levin is also a gifted wordsmith in the tradition of the best jazz and beat poets; his cadence delivers from the hip, sounding spontaneous but well-phrased; confident and clever without pretention. The other musicians settled into a cautious groove and gave him a perfect space for the words. Hard to believe they never practiced this stuff beforehand.


Rick Iannacone's contribution was a guitar so heavily treated with effects and gated filters that it scarcely resembled a guitar for most of the performance. His textures layered a very strange flesh over everything... sometimes wild with coarse fur, sometimes dry and cracked as if there must be a reptile's eye in there, somewhere... Iannacone's mind must be a damned fascinating place to be. He coaxed such sounds from that guitar...

By the end of the evening, Orion Sound Studios was left standing (miraculously) and I only hope they got a decent recording of the event. There may be a Maximalist album in the works, so they say, pieced together from shows like this. Performances like this are all too rare, and the Maximalists are among the most important music being made today. There. I said it. You can quote me, Sears.

Photos and flyer design by Hawkins/IntangibleArts

Maximal, vegetable, or mineral?

And so it was, that THEE MAXIMALISTS did gather at yonder Orion Studios in Baltimore. And lo, they did raise a most unholy racket. As is their way. Aaahhh...

It was only the fourth public performance of Thee Maximalists, and this one happened to be the tenth anniversary of Orion's first Progressive Rock Showcase. The atmosphere was festive and wacky. And pregnant with sound.

For the uninitiated: THEE MAXIMALISTS consists of a rotating cast of characters, most commonly anchored by Paul Sears (of The Muffins fame), Keith Macksound (from Present), and Yanni (from Stinking Lizaveta). Recent inductees include Werbinox (vocals) and Jim Rezek (mellotron). Beyond that, anything goes. Last minute additions are to be expected. The music is entirely improvised, and tends to be joyfully crazed, taking the "free jazz" concept into "free rock" territory.

This time, Yanni couldn't make it (the Stinkies are on tour), and Werbinox wasn't present either, but the supplementary cast was fabulous. Dave Newhouse (also from The Muffins) provided keyboards & saxophones, Cyndee Lee Rule was there with electric violin, Adrian Sears provided cello, and Rezek was there with a moog and TWO mellotrons, for cryin' out loud...

It was the fullest-sounding Maximalist show yet. Dave Newhouse was a perfect addition, with his penchant for looping keyboard passages that gave the improvised madness a trance-inducing, swaying backbone. Paul Sears' drumming was powerful as usual (worthy of his brief association with Magma), and Keith's bass echoed Present's darker, growling moments but with a playful spirit that suited the evening perfectly.

At one point, Newhouse emerged with a harmonica and forced the Maximalists, perhaps kicking and screaming, into a deranged prog bluegrass stomp that sounded exquisitely well-practiced, though of course, it wasn't. It was Thee Maximalists.

Nearly two hours later, Orion lay in ruins. I staggered back to the car with the camera in hand, wondering how the hell they'd ever top this one.

Thee Maximalists!

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.)