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pipeline5.live reviews
Mr. Quintron, Miss Pussycat, Pasca, Melted Men
01.05.01.Bastard.Berlin, Germany
Ahhh, May 1 in Berlin. Peaceful protest that evolves yearly into "us vs. them" combat between riot-geared Berlin Polizei and Berliner teens. This May, as the fires raged outside, cars were overturned, and windows were smashed, Bastard rocked so hard that no one inside even noticed the quasi-political eruption happening all around them. Mr. Quintron and Ms. Pussycat were in town. The show started late (of course it did, it was in Berlin, with the Melted Men taking the stage in full costumes, one in what looked like an odd alien rabbit and the other in the scariest full-head horse mask I've ever seen. Melted Men's music was a down-home New Orleans concoction of fractured (but oddly rhythmic) samples, epileptic drum machine beats, and spastic live drumming from the horse, with screams and "I'm on the verge of a breakdown" utterings of repetitive silliness spouting out of the mouth hole of the scary red thing. The duo rocked through a few more costume changes (including full nudity and a scary pirate/cook) and the trashing of the drum kit, jumping into the audience to sing from the top of the bar at the back of the room. Surrounded by all the chaos was a surprisingly coherent noise stew of hidden rhythms and buried beats that, unfortunately, couldn't stand up to the band's visual high-jinks.
Pasca set up and started next, though no one could tell. He was one man in all black, typical roadie material, who simply set up two microphones and then began to talk. Then, the haggled Finnish native started his set of unaccompanied karaoke, instrumental and vocal, with deranged aplomb. He made guitar sounds into a delay-effected mic, then sang through the normal mic, making vocal-metal which swung between the realms of hilarious and tiresome, mixing things up a bit with a cover of "Stairway to Heaven" which turned into "Like A Prayer" when he began with the wrong lyrics. It was an utterly appropriate act for the show, but Pasca's twenty-minute set managed only to bore half of the crowd and raise the level of anticipation for the headliners.
After what seemed to be some technical problems (or maybe a missing Miss Pussycat), the first couple of New Orleans oddness took calmly announced that we'd see a puppet show and disappeared behind the little puppet stage in the back. The lights and sound came on, and "Free Drum Buddy Lessons for Animals", a puppet show almost identical in plot to Miss Pussycat's Flossie and the Unicorns' smash hit "Free Guitar Lessons for Animals" from the cd LMNOP, a drama starring the Mr. Quintron puppet and the drum buddy puppet in which animals get free lessons, a witch rids the forest of all recording engineers, and happiness is restored when the witch is vanquished and a new engineer is found. Anyone who's heard Flossie and the Unicorns knew what to expect from Ms. Pussycat, and got it: creepiness, humor, cuteness, and weirdness all mushed into a short play starring puppets of rudimentary construction and pre-recorded, high-pitched voices. All but the club's most self-conscious, overly-serious hipsters found something to enjoy in the show, dropping the Berliner self-control long enough to laugh and enjoy the fun.
Mr. Quintron then left the puppet stage and calmly positioned himself behind his synth, urging the crowd to surround him, saying hed play better the closer we were. Miss Pussycat stood to his right, ready for her accompaniment. Then, the avant-lounge extravaganza began. Mr. Quintron rocked the crowd with swinging ditties from his hammond-aping synth, singing in his deranged, slimy, and sultry way while Miss Pussycat's backup vocals and maracas offset the masculine side of the music. Adding to the excitement were microphone troubles for Miss Pussycat, a drunk who seemed to have wandered in and really wanted Mr. Quintron to drink his wine (and was later "escorted" from the club), and the removal by Mr. Quintron of his upper clothing, piece-by-piece. The set ended well into the night/early morning after numerous encores, leaving the crowd free to walk into the now-pacified streets of north-eastern Berlin. The opening show of Mr. and Miss's European tour was a success, peace had been restored, and, perhaps most surprising, the self-conscious sterility and self-control of the common Berliner had been erroded without the help of homogenized, bad techno, even if only for one night. [adam strohm]
Reynols, To Live and Shave in LA 2, Late, The Weather Channel
08.22.00.Millvale Industrial Theatre.Pittsburgh, PA.
Previous to the day of this particular show I had only seen/heard THE WEATHER CHANNEL, who were comprised of members from local groups THE 1985 and MICROWAVES. However, I did know that TO LIVE AND SHAVE IN L.A. 2 were described as �free-glam� with Weasel Walter on guitar, REYNOLS were an improvisational group from Argentina; of LATE I had no clue what to expect. And before leaving for the show I had a chance to hear some of the TLASILA2 CD, which made me think that I was about to see an interesting show at the very least. If I only knew�
First up was THE WEATHER CHANNEL, who I had seen once a few weeks earlier. This group was a conglomeration of a couple guitarists, synthesizer, highly effected electric bass, and drums. On the previous encounter, they had established the notion that a loud wall of sound would be administered. And it was: syncopated rhythms with the occasional loose overall structure, with harsh, various sounds relentlessly belted about. This time around, though, the songs seemed to be a bit more coherent and there was even the addition of an occasional screamed vocal. Their set was, as mentioned, loud, a bit noisy, and sometimes slightly hurtful (but not in a bad way). They could be felt as well as heard. Overall, the WC sound is kind of hard to describe. A rigid comparison to something seems to be even hard to make. At any rate, the volume of this ensemble was sure to open the ears for who or whatever would follow.
Which was LATE: a solo effort of sound experimentation/manipulation. Two relatively small guitar combo amplifiers put out the sound of what seemed to be some type of static, or white or pink noise, or something. I thought I saw a 4-track recorder in use, which might suggest some type of tape manipulation, but that didn�t seem to be the case. And none of this was being put through the club�s sound system, which (although depending on what your take on this sort of thing), seemed to detract from the experience. At one point it seemed as if the amplifiers were overloading, as smoke seemed to be coming from at least one of them. I�m still not exactly sure what this guy was doing behind the amps. Regardless, after seeing THE WEATHER CHANNEL, and in anticipation of the coming events, LATE seemed like more of an intermission, or segue. Not that what was going on wasn�t interesting-I�d still like to know exactly what he was toying with.
TLASILA2 came up next. They proved to be another interesting ensemble, which was as visually striking as it was audibly stimulating. Although names were garnered after the show, Rat Bastard played violin with many effects, Weasel Walter played guitar, Nandor played drums, and Misty moaned and cheered us on. Like I said, visuals were a key element here. In fact, seeing this spectacle was at least half of why I�d recommend everyone to see TLASILA2 at some point in their lifetime. If you�re at all familiar with Weasel clad in formal attire and sporting horns, be prepared to see a different side. He looked like a WWII soldier crossed with a pirate and a punk rocker, all of whom had just been in a shipwreck (note: I can�t take complete credit for that analogy, as someone I was with made a similar comment). Rat looked like an average middle-aged man, except for the fact that he rolled about on the ground with a violin. Nandor wore leather pants and played death/grind drums and had a beard. And Misty, well, like I said, Misty tried her best to get everyone into the spirit of things-even if, in doing so, she made you feel a bit uncomfortable by her display of� enthusiasm. She looked like a cheerleader crossed with an erotic dancer-especially when she hiked up her skirt and flaunted particular areas/regions of her person. At one point she even gave a young boy a lap dance. I�ll not mention what she did with the microphone and other random things she found on the not-so-clean floor of the Millvale Industrial Theatre. But how did all of this sound, you ask? The only way I can describe TLASILA2 would be chaotic free-glam. What exactly that means, I�m not even sure. All I know is that this band needs to be seen. It was certainly an experience I�m not likely to forget very soon.
Last up was REYNOLS, who were tame compared to TLASILA2. But that doesn�t mean they were less attractive. And, although they seemed to lack one of their main members, their set was intriguing and definitely one I would suggest. They played along to a CD of the drummer/vocalist who was absent for whatever reason. In his place sat an upturned garbage can with a picture of his face. Their sound was loud, swirling, and somewhat loosely structured. And visually, the 2/3rd�s of the group made quite an interesting display with their sunglasses, small-scale guitars, and arm motions. I could be wrong, but the sound seemed to change along with particular arm movements. Again, a band that is probably best left to experience (although I would like to hear some of their recorded output).
By the end of this particular show, I was left with many images and sounds lingering on the brain. If you get the chance, don�t hesitate to see any of these performers, really.[brad heiple]
Solex,Furnace Street,The Weather Channel,Parvulus Infectus.
05.29.00.Millvale Industrial Theatre.Pittsburgh, PA.
The MIT tends to be a bit of a dive. As is, the shows there are usually pretty rockin'. Well, I have enjoyed them at least. But there are always elements of an MIT show that make them less enjoyable then they could ultimately be. In this case, it was the bands. Parvulus Infectus began with a rather mediocre set of fifteen-year-old "angst" driven industrial music. Their equipment seemed to cut out a lot, and they sprayed metal fragments out into the crowd with power tools. I like feedback, quite a lot actually, but their variety of feedback was ridiculous and painful. The Weather Channel played a great brand of noisy spaz rock, easily likened to Arab on Radar (without being at all derivative). This is to be expected, as the Weather Channel is comprised of many parts of The 1985. They were definitely rocking, and seeing them multiple times has been interesting and rewarding. Furnace Street seemed to be a band that were trying to accomplish something greater than that of which they are capable. It's apparent that they listen to a lot of New Order and other such bands; however, they were not really able to capture the catchiness and sweetness of that sound. And they seemed to be really trying. On the whole, quite disappointing. The reason we were there, of course, was Solex. I mean, that goes without saying. And despite the over abundance of smoke, teenage punk/hippies, and the patchouli reek, the show was not disappointing. Solex was able to deliver on the fun, sweetness, and upbeat cuteness that she puts forth on her albums. She is clearly a consummate professional, and the addition of live drums and guitar did nothing to hamper the beautiful, sample heavy poppiness of her songs. After the gig, we talked briefly, and she's an incredibly nice person. Over all, she was able to cut through the bull and shine in the midst of such clouds (both of smoke and mediocrity). [mgc3]