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It is that time of the year.
As stockings are hung by the chimney with care, as folks rush from store to store looking for that perfect last-minute gift, as bells are jingled and trees are decorated…
… I choose noise.
For me, it serves as the perfect soundtrack for the above “noise” of the season. And, yes, I know calling it “noise music” is reductive. I look forward to continuing to watch that debate unfold online somewhere sometime soon.
In any case, I found myself at the Mercury Theater on Saturday, December 14th for a three artist bill: New Grasping Machina, Kevin Winter and Rusty Burke, looking for (and finding) a respite from the hustle and bustle of December in Baltimore.
How did I get into this sort of stuff?
Was it because I grew up in a clanging, clanky place filled with the sounds of heavy machinery, limned with car exhaust and the constant dull roar of Eastern Avenue? Maybe.
Was it because Sonic Youth were early key favorites of mine and following their rabbit trail of solo projects and music enthusiasms lead me to this world? Maybe.
Whatever the reason… noise music works for me!
Rusty Burke began the night with an exploration of the sound world he has been building for years. As he put it, his “caveman style” approach is built off an older era of sound bank, built up from pedals, contact mics attached to metal chairs, and cast-off oscillators. The set was planned but with elements of randomness, including a pile of microcassettes containing mystery sounds, fed into the mix and then occasionally thrown into the audience.
Following Rusty’s set, it was then time for the ritual of swapping out tables, each artist having carefully rigged up their nights’ sound generators with care. Kevin Winter brought the goods, pushing sounds to their breaking points, making one feel that something had been cracked open sonically, allowing you to go inside the tones. There was something contemplative about the set without compromising the extreme nature of the music of the evening.
Sets in this scene tend to be short. Often, artists use timers as opposed to set lists to determine the length of their performance. This keeps what could be an hours-long exploration of the edges of sound reigned into a reasonable time frame.
Another table swap and New Grasping Machina was off and running. I could tell by the soundcheck that I was in for a wild ride. This sort of business felt somewhere between the first and second acts, wild analog waves meeting digital gates and controls.
As vocals were introduced, heavily processed and fitting in well the sound tornado being generated, the plastic table used by New Grasping Machina, already bowed to a degree I found concerning, began being pushed back and forth by the artist and a particularly enthusiastic audience member. The two locked together, the table buckling beneath them. The set ended at a dead stop, on the edge of collapse.
So, as you push through the stresses of the holiday season, consider noise music. Turn off “Jingle Bells”. Put on “Stabbed in the Face.” This works every time for me, putting a spring in my step as I face yet another round of decked halls and figgy pudding.
