FIM 11/5/23 Neverending Books

 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.

John Raymond and S. Carey “Shadowlands” 11/3/23 Firehouse 12

 Luckily bought an advance ticket for the first set of this sold out performance at the Firehouse. The quintet consisted of Raymond on trumpet, flugelhorn, S. ( Sean) Carey on drums and vocals, Romain Collin on piano, Katie Ernst on standup bass, and Dave Devine on guitar. Raymond and Carey are old friends from Wisconsin. Their musical paths diverged with Raymond a Grammy nominated jazzbo and Carey assuming the role of right hand man for fellow Wisconsin indie hermit JustinVernon aka Bon Iver. Bon Iver has secured a place in indie rock royalty with a string of popular releases and high profile collaborations. Raymond and Carey acknowledge that the Firehouse is a new setting for them, but were gushing at the chance to exhibit their music to a different audience. The music had a meditative movie score feel. With trumpet and creamy toned flugel out front and Carey’s  soprano singing, Shadowlands leaned more toward Sufjan Stevens than Chuck Mangione. The backing crew were solid musicians with Collin taking a nice solo and Ernst taking lead vocal duties on Some Other Time, a Leonard Bernstein composition. The modern classical lane is a thing, like the Dessner brothers from The National, this crew occupies the space between popular music and modern composition. Raymond did a tricky trumpet looping sequence through a Prophet 6 which was excellent. I’m always amazed at drumming singers, Carey’s spare shading was not strenuous and seemed not to affect his singing. The Firehouse faithful, to their credit, seemed to embrace this decidedly non-skronky, downright melodic, improv-less offering. For those who complain of the inaccessible sets offered at this venue, would have been wise to get a seat for this enjoyable set.

Xiu Xiu 10/23/23 Spaceland

 Missed local noiseniks Mountain Movers doing the opening for this one. Xiu Xiu is a trio that specializes in noise, industrial, angst ridden post punk. Jamie Stewart on guitar, percussion and vocals with Angela Seo on keys, percussion and vocals and Dave Kendrick on drums. Let’s start with Kendrick, pale and lanky, his brightly patterned shirt matched his ferocity on the drums. Seo was inked and sculpted, her tank top emblazoned with “cease fire” which ,while topical was ironic given the aural assault unleashed by her playing. Stewart was fascinating to watch, his manic yelps could sound like Chris Isaak being tortured or some Pere Ubu or Devo-esque basement rager. Between songs he went to a Nalgene and gargled with some tan liquid as if to congratulate or motivate his vocal chords. They each had a cymbal, which when maniacally struck by all had a cartoony vibe. One song had Seo singing “it won’t be” over and over which pulsed into this rhythmic mush. It seemed that Stewart inhabited multiple personalities on stage. One sequence had him prattling like a petulant teen and then moving to an operatic bombast. This band is experimental, their catalog includes renderings of the Twin Peaks reboot and I did locate Laura’s Theme at one point. Let’s face it, this crew should be playing at the surreal bar in TP. Their recent release has ten songs about tragedy with five about people they know, and five imaginary songs, an attempt to process grief. Between songs, the crowd was deathly quiet except for one free-birding wingnut who was quickly shushed by the hipster majority. Stewart gets on the mic and urges the crowd to “be nice, and respect the opinions of others”. Kind of telling that he stuck up for the outsider, he has spent his life as the outsider. These three were definitely on the spectrum, in a good way. After the encore, Stewart waved to the crowd like a third grader out the back window of the bus, sweet.

Les Claypool’s Flying Frog Brigade 10/21/23 Oakdale Wallingford

 Always a treat to hear bass savant Claypool and his collection of like- minded freaks airing their formative musical laundry on the line. Billed as “the hunt for green October tour”, the band wowed the capacity audience on this Saturday night. Band consisted of Claypool, Sean (Ono) Lennon guitar, Harry Waters keys, Skerik saxophones, Mike Dillon percussion (mainly marimba), and Paulo Baldi drums. There can be no opening act, as Claypool has reached a point in his career where greedy control of the entire evening is necessary. Let’s jump in, first set starts with the sadly topical cover When Johnny Comes Marching Home, David Makalaster (pt 1 and 2), One Step Beyond (Prince Buster or Madness cover, depending on your age) and ended with Cricket and The Genie from the Claypool-Lennon Delirium sessions. Being sired by John Lennon and Yoko Ono has some obvious pluses. Sean is an odd duck, skilled guitarist with whiffs of rock and avant garde royalty, his upbringing must have been a swirl of weed, paparazzi, limos, and absentee famous parents cut short by tragedy. At one point he pulled out the Frampton vocal treater. Set two starts with a Skerik-less full reading of the entire Pink Floyd Animals record. Many an hour has been spent poring over this late 70s masterpiece and the band didn’t disappoint. Waters is also music royalty, being the Hammond organ playing son of Floyd founder Roger, his Brit-lilt hit the vocal sweet spot for this section. Set two barreled on with some selections from Claypool’s vast back catalog, Precipitation, Calling Kyle, and Highball With The Devil allowed all players to shine. Dillon has been part of this troupe for a while and seemed like he got a marimba for his birthday and didn’t want to give it up. I don’t know much of drummer Baldi, but the vetting to be timekeeper for this funk-metal-prog behemoth must have been intense. Set two ends with One Better that includes a tasty Rappers Delight tease. The encore was fabulous, starting with a propulsive cover of The English Beat’s Mirror in The Bathroom into Whamola and ended with the Willy Wonka staple Pure Imagination for which Claypool scored one of the many reincarnations. Must be nice to be the village weirdo, attract other village weirdos, making a living onstage being…….an assemblage of village weirdos.

The Old 97s 9/27/23 Spaceland

 Packed house for a Wednesday to view veteran alt country rockers Old 97s. The band has been together since the late 90s with front man Rhett Miller on vocals and acoustic, Ken Bethea on lead twang guitar, backbone Murray Hammond on bass and vocals, and propulsive Philip Peeples on drums. Miller stated that it was their 30th year together, which is a long time for a band that lives on the periphery of success. They hit the scene with the likes of Ryan Adams and Neko Case penning tales of love and loss and drinking shot through the alt country lens. The live shows are high energy rock and roll that showcase a mix of punk and twang energy. The crowd was mid 50ish and knew the words to most songs. The only person in the room that didn’t appear to age was Rhett Miller. Not sure if it was the long swirling hair, his style of dress, or that he did a solo show at the fountain of youth, but Miller looks exactly the same as when he broke onto the scene. I haven’t followed their career intently, but a Spotify cruise shows some pretty regular releases over the years. The setlist had some notable standouts Rollerskate Skinny, Doreen, Timebomb, Question, and Niteclub.

A Concert Celebrating The Poetry of Langston Hughes 9/23/23 Battell Chapel

 Any excuse to see music in the venerable venue that is Yale’s Battell Chapel is always welcome. On this evening, the Yale Institute of Sacred Music (ISM) hosted two vocal ensembles to illuminate the poetry of Harlem Renaissance wordsmith Hughes. The Cerddorian Vocal Ensemble ( Welsh for “musicians”) was a 25 mixed voice group  and was directed by artistic director Dr. James John. The Unsung Collective is a non- profit organization “ devoted to celebrating people of color in Western art music in NYC” and was directed by Dr. Tyrone Clinton. We arrived late to catch the end of CVE’s set Three by Langston, America Will Be!. U C then took the stage (altar) and performed the Dream Keeper, The Negro Speaks of Rivers, and Dreams. Choral groups are outside of my musical comfort zone, but there is no denying the talent needed to cohesively sing as one. Several members of each group took solos and each had some spare piano accompaniment. From my balcony view, it was striking to see the Caucasian CVE followed by the African American UC. The ensembles “integrated” for the final Afro- American Fragments. Hughes made poetry relatable by ditching the Thees and Thous in favor of vernacular which afforded an artistic springboard for many black musicians.

Ches Smith’s We All Break 9/22/23 Firehouse 12

 A “ visual and musical riot” is the best way to describe drumming juggernaut Smith and his troupe of Haitian voodoo musicians. Anyone who has been to the Firehouse knows the stage and acoustics are intimate, what to do then but put ten people, mics, and their instruments up there. The group was actually two groups. A jazz quartet with Smith on drums, Matt Mitchell on piano, Berlin-based bass wunderkind Nick Dunston on standup,  and multiple Grammy nominee Miguel Zenon on sax were paired with 3 female vocalists and 3 male conga and tanbou players. Zenon had to stand in the hallway for goodness sake. I knew I was in for it when the guy at the door offered up earplugs. The music was a fascinating blend and bounce of the two genres. Traditional Haitian songs and chants were spread over a jazz backdrop. The drummers were nonstop with one guy singing counterpoint to the ladies. Not sure if it was by design, but the range in the singers age was noticeable with a 20ish, 30ish, and a 60ish performer. The Haitian drummers were fascinating to watch, they maintained eye contact with each other so as to seamlessly shift gears and tempos. Zenon was a perfect choice for this endeavor, being of Puerto Rican descent, he has spent decades mining the fertile landscape of Latin and world jazz. Mitchell plays at the Firehouse often, his unkempt appearance matched his feverish runs. When he wasn’t playing, Mitchell stared off into space, like some Buckowskian tortured prodigy, whose artistic brainwaves seemed too much for this world. Dunston is an in demand artist, with forays into electronic composition, he is an accomplished artist in his own right. The website listed Immanuel Wilkins on sax as well but he must have been cut from the lineup (or he would have had to set up on Crown St!). Last, but not least, is Ches Smith. His bio is a dream lineup of boundary pushing appearances with Marc Ribot, Tim Berne, John Zorn, Darius Jones, Vijay Iyer, Nels Cline, Terry Riley, Mr. Bungle, and Xiu Xiu. His lanky frame hitting the kit as if he were a marionette. The groups seemed like an unlikely pairing, as if the jazz nerds were forced to sit at the lunch table with the ethnic kids. The result was something better, something new, a testament to the advantages of diversity.