I’ll skip my regular rant about this ratty venue. Sure the discarded couch I sat on sunk to about 1968 when my ass hit it, but the bathroom had a monstrous cast iron steam heat source which made one feel like they were peeing in a sauna. I’m thinking FIM stands for Free Improv Music, but the crew wasn’t sure and while they have a website, it hasn’t been updated in months. Thankfully this dungeons and dragons club for music theory nerds focused on playing not infrastructure. First up was local treasure accordionist Adam Matlock. Adam is a local scenester whose alter ego is Dr. Caterwaul and has been positively reviewed here. I’ve always thought the accordion was a bagpipe worth listening to. This one had a pearlescent red and white body, gold and red accented bellows, and a pearled button pad. The button pad is odd, it looks like a yoga sock with about 60 little rubber buttons. Chatting with Matlock at the set break, I was embarrassed to ask him button questions. He did lament the tiny Italian company that made his was less than efficient for parts. This instrument has keys, bellows, buttons, and when applied to avant garde stylings, all can move in opposite directions. The curve to the bellows is critical to the bent sound, and Matlock is a master. Next crew was a quartet, Caleb Duvall on standup bass ( FIM CEO I guess), drummer, guitarist (another FIM exec), and guest sax wailer Stephen Gauci. Just read a positive review of Gauci’s new release Live At Scholes Street Studio ( with Matthew Shipp, William Parker, and Francisco Mela, all anchors of the scene). Duvall played one sequence with a bow stabbing motion to strange effect, another had him slapping so hard it felt the whole room was being twanged with a large gage rubber band. The drummer was a piler. The drum kit is a series of flat surfaces, why not pile shit on them, Cymbals, upside down cymbals, cowbells, bean bags, all made different sounds when struck. The guitarist was low key, staring off into space while using various chrome plated widgets to scrape and pluck. Gauci was fascinating to watch, coke bottle glasses and buttoned up brown Brooklyn attire, he moved like a used car lot balloon man, even jumping at the the full of air apex, as if to gather more air to blow through his horn. His sound was Ayler-esque, he needed frequent rests to prepare for the next squall. The final crew was a trio. A young woman on bassoon, guy on standup bass, and a decidedly Nordic looking beanpole on electronics. The bassoon has a great tone, but this gal used it percussively sounding like a cartoon arrow flight at one point. The bass in this group was understated but kept the others focused. Electronics means a laptop, some boxes, some wires, and this guy had what looked like dueling vintage Apple click wheels. The electronics were mostly used for metallic whooshy shading, but one part had him moving to the front sounding like R2D2 being water boarded. There were no introductions, these people all knew each other and were playing with and for their peers. They all looked ecstatically tranced while playing. Hmm, ecstatically tranced, pizza from nearby Modern Apizza, playing music with and for your friends…. Sounds like High School.
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