I’ve been to plenty of shows that were as loud as Dead Meadow’s tour-closing performance at The Freebutt. But rarely have I been to a show that loud where the audience was so attentive.
This is my first visit to The Freebutt, and I’m pleased to find it embodies a utilitarian approach that I find is sadly lacking in the majority of sponsored corporate venues today. To all intents and purposes it looks and feels like an end-of-terrace house that somehow got caught perpetually half-way through a metamorphosis from arty squat to alternative pub venue.
The Freebutt is shabby, laid out in a strange way and (architecturally, at least) utterly unsuited to its purpose. It’s also friendly, intimate and utterly unique - I wish my town had one just like it. It’s also a great venue for Dead Meadow and their supports.
You’re Smiling Now But We’ll All Turn Into Demons
The opening slot on the Dead Meadow bill goes to Portsmouth’s You’re Smiling Now But We’ll All Turn Into Demons who - in addition to possessing one of the most ridiculously cumbersome but apposite names in the business – do a unique line in psychedelic garage-prog.
Zen Buddhism teaches that the essence of harmony is in the balancing of opposing principles, like progressive intricacy and garage immediacy. You’re Smiling Now But We’ll All Turn Into Demons probably don’t give a damn for Zen Buddhism, though; they’re far too busy making a huge loud swirling NOISE.
It’s a precarious tightrope for four evidently well-lubricated blokes to walk, but they get it just right, vast walls of noise conjured from analogue stomp-boxes blending with twangy mid-range riffs that will haunt you for weeks to come, all pinned together with amphetamine drumming that’s tighter than an emo kid’s trousers. You’re Smiling Now But We’ll All Turn Into Demons are that rarest of birds – a band who do their own thing, and do it really well.
The Bolide Awkwardsta
Sandwiched between You’re Smiling Now But We’ll All Turn Into Demons and Dead Meadow are The Bolide Awkwardsta. Like the Demons, they’re a band who do their own thing; utterly unlike them, they seem unwilling to deal with such tired and mainstream concepts as rhythm, melody or song structure.
The Bolide Awkwardsta are either an acquired taste or a psilocybin victims self-help group with a penchant for Free Jazz and novelty ethnic instruments … or possibly both. They deliver approximately twenty-five minutes of flow-of-consciousness musical blather that sounds like five drunk tramps wrestling in the instrument storage room of a folk all-dayer.
It’s impressive in some respects, and The Bolide Awkwardsta obviously have a great belief in what they’re doing (as well as a lot of fun doing it), but the joke (if a joke it is) wears off after about two minutes. Given the ongoing exodus into the bar area during their set, I’m not alone in my opinions.
In front of the right audience, The Bolide Awkwardsta would probably be a roaring success. Thing is, that audience would have had to have partaken very liberally of the legendary Woodstock brown acid.
Dead Meadow
Compared to The Bolide Awkwardsta and You’re Smiling Now But We’ll All Turn Into Demons, Dead Meadow are a text-book demonstration of the power of restraint and subtlety.
Possibly because we’re so accustomed to the scales and styles involved, blues-based rock always sounds absurdly simple on record. Basic backbeat, lazy bassline, four chords and some pentatonic twiddling, and bingo – job done, right?
Well, yes and no. Dead Meadow’s sound is firmly rooted in exactly those principles, but it’s a format that they’ve climbed inside of and made their own: a mellow melancholia shot through with understated virtuosity. It’s stoner blues, man.
That said, it’s an evolution for them in some respects; after a decade or so making music that hid itself under heavy blankets of impenetrable fuzz, it’s as if the latest album Old Growth documents Dead Meadow discovering that they had a voice all along, and deciding to speak clearly without their hands covering their mouths.
And when someone speaks clearly, people listen. The volume is pretty inescapable, but the really impressive thing about Dead Meadow’s live performance is its intensity. With zero theatrics and little more stage décor than an oil-wheel projecting onto the kick drum, these three guys have the attention of the entire room. I look back over my shoulder briefly, and it’s like looking backwards in the cinema: staggered rows of upturned faces, captivated, lost in the narrative.
We get about a straight hour of music from Dead Meadow, and they never miss the target, mixing a lion’s share of material from Old Growth with a wide selection of earlier material. McCarty [drums] and Kille [bass] conjure the rhythmic framework for the un-showy but staggering guitar talent of Simon to work over, and we get song after song of ringing open chords, languid grungy riffs and hammered harmonies punctuated with lean but sprawling solos drenched in echo, fuzz and wah. Simon is quite a retiring frontman - he doesn’t sing loud and he doesn’t say much between songs either - but he enters into a communion with his Telecaster that is the envy of every guitarist in the room.
The Freebutt has to keep a rigid curfew thanks to its residential location, and Dead Meadow carry us right through to the last minute with their set. No encores, no rock star attitude or overstatement, and no pretension – just solid psychedelic blues with the roach between its knuckles. A must-see for any serious fan of fuzz rock.
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Posted in Live reviews |
Tags: blues, Dead Meadow, psychedelic, rock, stoner, The Bolide Awkwardsta, You’re Smiling Now But We’ll All Turn Into Demons
March 11th, 2008 at 12:14 pm
I do like the new Freebutt, but I have to say I preferred the old one. The bar was bigger, for a start.
To be honest I think it’s just that I have so many good memories from before the refurb!