Clavius Productions presents the return to DC by Lightning Bolt's Brian Chippendale after a six-year absence:
Friday, October 12
Velvet Lounge
915 U St NW WDC
http://www.velvetloungedc.com 202-462-3213
$8, 18+, doors at 9pm
Black Pus (Brian Chippendale of Lightning Bolt!)
Kites (Load Records, solo harsh noise from Providence)
Video Hippos (Baltimore/DC guitar/drums multimedia duo, Monitor Records)
DD/MM/YYYY (Toronto temper-tantrum art-punk)
Russian Tsarlag (mem. of Byron House, solo noise from Providence)
Black Pus http://www.myspace.com/theblackpus http://www.fauxfetus.net/faux/bands/blackpus/ Black Pus, Brian Chippendale's current solo project, showcases Brian's hurricane drumming in a chaotic outburst of distorted saxophone, percussion, and his trademark contact mic'd vocals. Black Pus' two releases are a lot crazier than Lighting Bolt's output so don't expect another Wonderful Rainbow.
A one-man dervish, Black Pus is Lightning Bolt drummer and Ninja artist Brian Chippendale battering drums, bass, and oscillating whatever, disgorging the squall via his DiareahRama Records imprint. Chippendale's third hand-screened CD-R's stuffed with signature noise spills ("Which Is Which"), wind-tunnel huffs ("The Mad Scatter)" and Angus MacLise treks ("Exerschism"). The catchiest bit, "Earth Ain't Enuff," is a warbling Pink Floyd/Sun City Girls polka that even an adventurous Baba might like. Leading the warped parade, Chippendale shouts bullhorn-style through a melted vocal loop and bass drum, sounding out a posse of Lollipop Kids marching for housing rights along the yellow brick road. (Tech nerd note: Chippendale says he used a Line 6 loop delay pedal.) The infectious oom-pah-pah -â?? "Come by my neighborhood/To buy my neighborhood/Come at the crack of dawn/Singing your slimy song/wearing a fresh-pressed suit/Crafted from wireless loot/Then grab my neighborâ??s place/Leading the property race/Buy all the water, too/Earthâ??s not enough for you" â??- is aimed at Providence developers, but in this post-Turkey Day holiday season why not retroactively point the musket, too, at our small-pox-toting forefathers? Pass the black pus...errr, gravy. (Brandon Stosuy, Paper Thin Walls)
Kites http://www.loadrecords.com/bands/kites.html One-man electrical system operator Kites continues his man-and-machine battle for your mind. A blend of painful, electronic feedback nerve bake, quirky, simplistic songwriting, tinkling soundscapes, and atmospheric roars. Violent, sweet, unpleasant, and nice.
One-man organic sturm and scowl returns with his fourth record for LOAD. Following 2006â??s Peace Trials blend of campfire informed Wilheim Reich downer crunch and burn, this new release journeys into deeper tunnels of solid frozen anthracite. While definitely part of the contemporary American noise scene, KITES (Chris Forgues) blends percussive chug and homemade sine wave generation into a dynamic somewhere in between early '80s electro schoolyard loiterers THROBBING GRISTLE and Sheffieldâ??s CABARET VOLTAIRE.
Where Peace Trials took the song form to an almost confusing and happy place, songs on the new record feature a colder tone. Gone are the stringed instruments of the last record, replaced with more home-constructed oscillation batteries. Disembodied voices ping-pong from speaker to speaker, dry percussive chatter fills the headphone foam and you are prisoner in a room you can never leave.
The record is entirely self recorded. Chris constructs his entire electronics setup.
Video Hippos http://www.videohippos.com http://www.myspace.com/videohippos Like members of any good scene, the bands in Baltimore's Wham City collective and satellite friends -- Dan Deacon, Ponytail, Lizz King, Lexie Mountain Boys, Santa Dads, Video Hippos, to name a few -- approach a similar aesthetic from different angles. Common ground: the exclamation point (everything is invariably rad! or free! or awesome! or something you can yell), indulgence in rebellion and art-school regression (warehouse squalor, communal everything), and, relatedly, a warped sense of nostalgia. This last point, though, is where the bands part ways: Lexie Mountain Boys sound like a playpen getting knocked over, Dan Deacon has encouraged audiences to imagine themselves in the rec rooms of their parents' houses scarfing pizza, and Video Hippos -- well, Video Hippos took me longer to parse.
It wouldn't be fair to call them the scene's melancholics, but let's propose a dichotomy: Dan Deacon makes kiddie overstimulation sound like fun. Relentless, ga-ga fun. Call the doctor! because I'm choking on fun. Video Hippos' approach of wrapping simple, melodic pop-punk and Blondie riffs in toylike synths and effects pedals is that feeling's underbelly: numb, slate. Unbeast the Leash is 13 terse theme songs for an eight-hour day of cartoons and video games. And pre-adolescent boredom, lest you forget, is a rigorous bitch. Of course, the effect isn't just to retrieve that queasy, socked-out feeling from childhood, but -- and this is abundantly obvious from drummer Kevin O'Meara's video projections that blare during the band's performances -- to remind you that, yeah, media is still crammed down our throats, Bush Jr.'s smiling face is burned into our eager eyes, America eats its young, civilization is doomed, and so forth.
In that sense, Unbeast the Leash is a uniquely sad record, one that reminded me at first of the way New Order made dance music for clubgoers and downcast eyes alike -- at a Video Hippos show in mid-July, I was among only a few people dancing, and the dancing was more like swaying. Photographs subsequently revealed Smiths fans quarantined in suburban bedrooms. O'Meara's kit faces away from the audience. He could be replaced by a drum machine (and often plays along with one), but the irony of letting a human do a machine's job is too rich to pass up. Guitarist and vocalist Jim Triplett stands motionless, staring at nothing in particular. He lets would-be rallying cries fizzle into statements of resignation. He swallows his words, and whatever comes out, comes out faint.
Unbeast the Leash hits the same emotional note for about 30 minutes, but a) That's part of the point, and b) It's a note that most bands aren't able to hit: the deep comfort of a true bummer. In that sense, they're Baltimore's shoegazers. They turn the garage-party aesthetic into a faded photograph the way My Bloody Valentine suffocated eros with a pillow. It's not that Unbeast the Leash is a triumph on the scale of Loveless by any stretch, but like that album, it sounds at once a part of its scene and completely contrary to it, the warm crash as the sugar wears off. (Mike Powell, Pitchforkmedia)
DD/MM/YYYY http://www.ddmmyyyy.net/ http://www.myspace.com/ddmmyyyy Today is a new day.
You can sing the same song a hundred times and it will never be the same. Nothing is, everything is, movement. Torontoâ??s DD/MM/YYYY just released their sophomore album Are They Masks? on July 10th, 2007.
Ranging from subdued atmospherics to tempo-tantrum art punk, the album retains the experimental learning of the band, while poking fun at familiar pop formats. The follow-up album to 2005â??s Blue Screen of Death, Are They Masks? documents the continued evolution of the band with twenty-one new songs.
Taking influence from the works of Frank Zappa, Melt Banana, Dada art and video games, DD/MM/YYYY formed in 2003, out of the ashes of two recently disbanded Toronto acts.
They have since released a split CD with Panserbjorne in 2004, The World Is So Unreal, as well as Blue Screen of Death.
They have supported their releases with incessant touring, having successfully toured Canada many times over. This past May, DD/MM/YYYY embarked on their first full North American tour. The tour, which ran May 1, 2007-July 9, 2007, included dates with Japanther, Matt & Kim and Dan Deacon. DD/MM/YYYY has had the pleasure of performing with The Blood Brothers, Aidswolf, Tokyo Police Club, Gogogoairheart, An Albatross and White Mice, amongst others. DD/MM/YYYY will be touring again throughout the fall, with both Canadian and United States dates.
DD/MM/YYYY is: Tomas Del Balso, Matt King, Moshe Rozenberg, Mike Claxton, Jordan Holmes
Russian Tsarlag http://www.geocities.com/nemomutton/jesus.html Carlos Gonzalez, from Indiana (Bloomington, specifically), is the sole perpetrator of Russian Tsarcasm. If the sheer fantasticness (made it up) of this moniker doesn't urge you to download or buy my life..., you have no appreciation for wit, and frankly, i think a little less of you. Just thought you should know. Carlos is also in Byron House (Cephia's Treat darlings), Hepatitus Youth (see Byron House), Crotch Council, DKG Sleep Trio and assuredly others. He also puts out other people's music (as well as his own) on his Kinky Noise label.
Yay, a polarizing tape. This one, more so than his Kinky Noise released photography is for assholes, will divide listeners. Photography seemed a bit more experimental and loose sounding, while My Life Is as Natural as My Grip on the Machete is cemented in structure. Don't mistake structure for conventionality, this is not that. If there's anything that you might not like, it'd be Carlos' creepy, nasally, plaintively spoken vocals. Personally, I think they're fucking great. He could easily pass for (Anticon hip-hopper) Dose-one's younger brother. Additionally, the lyrics are very repetitious and have the distinct air of free association. You won't find any insight with "scent of the woman, scent of the unknown planet, keep it, i can't afford it", but you'll be amused. I am anyway.
On the topic of instrumentation, this is lo-fi, bedroom something or other. Expect a guitar, a sparingly used trumpet (maybe? what do I look like, a musician?) and a source of simple percussion, amongst a few other instruments. It's those repetitious guitar chords and mysterious percussive sounds that'll stay with you. Well, that and the vocal + lyrics combo, obviously. "I touched a dude. I washed his hands," the lyrics are a huge selling point. Carlos is also showing off a great ear for production with the spot-on layering job, panning and multi-tracked vocals. For a guy fucking around on a guitar, four-track, and not much else, I couldn't be happier. When you actually pay attention to the total package, you'll find that the sound is quite full and busy, without there feeling like too much is going on at once. Russian Tsarcasm has a unique approach, and it's paying off well for Carlos on this particular tape. Pretty damned catchy in parts, too. (Smooth Assailing blog)
