It’s a beautiful day in Central Park: clear skies, sunny, 75 degrees. The weather report calls for rain but I don’t trust the weather report anymore. They were predicting tornadoes yesterday. I think they’re just doing it for attention.
I’m looking forward to this show. I’ve heard about these bands but haven’t much listened to them let alone seen them play. I grab a beer and take a seat in the bleachers just in time for Gang Gang Dance.
Their set begins minimalist experimental. I am reminded of Steve Reich: “it’s gonna rain it’s gonna rain it’s gonna rain ” Is this an ill-omen?
Intermittent beats grow into a driving, African rhythm. I might think I was at a world music festival if their sound wasn’t so layered with electronics. But this isn’t clubland electronica: vocalist Liz Bougatsos hammers on the timbales and lets out Yoko Ono primal screams. Boom, boom whack, beep, boop, beep, SCREAM!
Nice.
Forget Yoko, she sounds like a tribal Bjork. Is she singing in English? Who knows, I certainly can’t make out any words. That’s not necessarily a bad thing: none of these bands care much for lyrics.
Their sound switches to Indian, now Middle Eastern, now Asian. Screw the map, these guys are all over the globe.
I’m not sure how much is jammed and how much is planned (or how much they planned to jam) but there is no discernible structure to their set. No individual songs that I can make out. No verse/chorus/verse. Just one, long, tribal, electronic jam session.
Hey, is that the music from Super Mario Brothers 3 when Mario falls through the sky after defeating one of the Koopa Kids? Sounds like it. I just nerd-outed myself, didn’t I?
Gang Gang Dance finish up and Black Dice begin to set up. They construct a wall of amps in the center of the stage. It is an imposing structure: a fortress of sound. The sheer variety of amps makes me question whether some might be decorative. Will they really be using all of those?
The answer is yes. Black Dice are three guys: Eric and Bjorn Copeland and Aaron Warren, playing straight-up noise rock. No instruments that I can see. Distorted, screaming, protest chant vocals layered over layers of synth beats, electronics and samples. At times pleasant, at times ear splitting: this is the soundtrack to a bad acid trip. This is robot rock for the apocalypse.
I don’t know if I like this. I don’t know if I hate it. I don’t know what to feel about it at all, and looking around at the crowd scratching their scalps I can assume that many in the audience feel the same as I do.
This isn’t the kind of music I’d put on at a party. Correction: this is the kind of music I would put on at a party if I wanted my ipod thrown out the window.
The guy in the purple shirt is really into it. He’s probably higher than Aleister Crowley.
At least it’s not raining. Actually, strike that. This music belongs to a gray day. Here in picturesque Central Park with the gentle breeze and the trees swaying above I feel that not all is right with the universe.
They finish their set with a few perfunctory waves. The crowd is split on whether to clap or stare, mouths agape.
A short break while the crowd builds in anticipation for Battles. A short break turns into a long break: they take their sweet time. The sun screams down on me like that angry sun from the desert in World 2 that swoops down on Mario, when sorry, there I go again.
Like the rest of the bands here today, Battles straddle genres. Their drummer (John Stainer from Helmet) is an absolute badass on his iconic, bright yellow kit with ten foot high cymbal. Tyondai Braxton switches from keyboard to guitar. He plays it frenetically like a tommy gun from a gangster flick.
They have a fervent, driving energy. They are only halfway through their set and Stainer looks like he’s jumped into a shower. I told you that sun was brutal.
The unmistakable arena-rock beat of their hit “Atlas”. Braxton picks up a mic for the first time in their set. The crowd goes nuts, and rightly so. I love this song.
They come back out for an encore. Stainer throws a tom on the ground and pounds on it like he’s trying to drive a nail through a stump.
Battles have been described as math rock. I never did like math, but I do like Battles.
