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| All Photos Courtesy of Matt Conzen |
It was a free show and most of the advertising focused on Kyp Malone, of TV On The Radio fame, who was playing a solo set sandwiched in between local duo Coins and another project in which he plays, Ice Balloons. Given the attendance pattern, it was clear that most of the night's attendees were TVOTR fans interested in seeing their idol. I would wager that fewer than a quarter of the audience had any familiarity with Malone's solo work (released under the name Rain Machine), never mind that of the other bands, but here they were anyway. It was, a relatively full house of people excited to hear... something.
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| Angela Mullenhour of Coins |
Coins, a collaboration between guitarist Angela Mullenhour of Sybris and Reds and Blue keyboardist Ellen Branch, started the night out with a set full of moody, wistful tunes about aliens and being struck by lightning played on equipment that appeared to have recently been salvaged from some forgotten '70s basement. The songs managed to etch their way into the back of your head, not necessarily due to their weird subject matter (which I might have missed without the band's intro) but due to the combination of Branch's waves of roiling keys and Mullenhour's prickly guitarwork, achieved by her practically clawing upward at the strings (or at least so it appeared). It was a strong opening set, priming the crowd perfectly for Kyp.
Malone finally took the stage in a green khaki
shirt, rabbinical fedora and a Frederick Douglas-esque salt n' pepper beard. After a few minutes of tuning he gave himself a brief, self-effacing introduction before launching into a set of crackling, imagistic material that blended folk, blues and chunky rock 'n' roll. The set consisted mostly of songs from Rain Machine which were, unsurprisingly solid, but occasionally meandering. Although the moments of lenghty, softly-strummed verses could start to feel a bit listless, Malone was able to wring a tone of utterly filthy distortion from his guitar which made the bridges and choruses exhilarating exhibitions of the possibility of the electric guitar. The audience was mostly pleased with the die-hard up front nearly losing it. At one point the obligatory marriage proposal wafted up from the crowd, which the singer replied self-effacingly "I'm not really the marrying type" before launching into the crowd favorite, "Give Blood".
After Malone's set, some people wandered off, their one mission of the night having been fulfilled. But the roughly 80% of the audience who stuck around for the Brooklyn psychedelic jazz extremists Ice Balloons were in for an unforgettable scene. Picture a band comprising of a bassist, a keytarist, THREE people on synths/pedals/etc, a rangey drummer almost complete covered in tattoos with a baseball cap reading "Comme des Fuckdown" and, oh yeah, a lead singer dressed in powder blue nudie suit, with no shirt underneath, matching Keds and a giant sparkling insect head mask. Now picture them all setting up their instruments to a building wall of sound and realizing at some point after the five minute mark that their set had already started. This is soon confirmed for you by the lead insect grabbing the mic and screaming into as the band somehow thunders into an even greater cacophony than before. Throughout all of this Malone lends a surreal air to things by standing still like a proud oak surrounded by a hurricane of noise, fiddling with his pedals resting on an old barstool. It was surreal.
The Ice Balloons are clearly building on the outlaw/weirdo/wtf tradition of rock that runs from Zappa through the Butthole Surfers and up through the Flaming Lips (although more when they were psychotic acid-heads). Their set was a never-ending barrage of sound so loud that noise stacked on noise stacked on noise creating weird harmonics and the sensation of demented swarms of cicadas buzzing around the back of your skull or icy tentacles crawling up your spine. Set to a backdrop of swirling colors and footage of fan dancers and UFOs, the whole thing was bizarre, abrasive, compelling and above all LOUD, with my ears still ringing 24 hours after the show. It was so different from 99% of indie rock or music or life in general that it reminds you of the radical possibilities of rock n' roll and art and all that other pretentious bullshit that we get so passionate about when we're young. It's the kind of show that any and every 14 year old freak, outcast or oddball should be taken to show them just what's possible.
By the time the last squelches of insanity had fizzled out, maybe a quarter of the crowd was still left and it wasn't hard to see why, I'm sure that few people were expect that kind of sonic assault. But for my (lack of) money, to witness something that ridiculous for zero dollars is about all I could ever ask for from a city or a Monday night and I couldn't have been happier as scurried back down Western to my car. Still, there's a part of me that kinda wished I'd have left a few songs earlier or at least stepped back from the monitors a bit. That kind of explosive creativity can really do a number on your ears.
Malone finally took the stage in a green khaki
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| Kyp Malone |
After Malone's set, some people wandered off, their one mission of the night having been fulfilled. But the roughly 80% of the audience who stuck around for the Brooklyn psychedelic jazz extremists Ice Balloons were in for an unforgettable scene. Picture a band comprising of a bassist, a keytarist, THREE people on synths/pedals/etc, a rangey drummer almost complete covered in tattoos with a baseball cap reading "Comme des Fuckdown" and, oh yeah, a lead singer dressed in powder blue nudie suit, with no shirt underneath, matching Keds and a giant sparkling insect head mask. Now picture them all setting up their instruments to a building wall of sound and realizing at some point after the five minute mark that their set had already started. This is soon confirmed for you by the lead insect grabbing the mic and screaming into as the band somehow thunders into an even greater cacophony than before. Throughout all of this Malone lends a surreal air to things by standing still like a proud oak surrounded by a hurricane of noise, fiddling with his pedals resting on an old barstool. It was surreal.
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| Ice Balloons |
By the time the last squelches of insanity had fizzled out, maybe a quarter of the crowd was still left and it wasn't hard to see why, I'm sure that few people were expect that kind of sonic assault. But for my (lack of) money, to witness something that ridiculous for zero dollars is about all I could ever ask for from a city or a Monday night and I couldn't have been happier as scurried back down Western to my car. Still, there's a part of me that kinda wished I'd have left a few songs earlier or at least stepped back from the monitors a bit. That kind of explosive creativity can really do a number on your ears.
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| Coins |
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| Coins |
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| Kyp Malone |
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| Kyp Malone |
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| Kyp Malone W/Ice Ballons |
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| Ice Balloons |
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| Ice Balloons |
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| Ice Balloons |
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| Ice Balloons |
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| Ice Balloons |
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| Ice Balloons |
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