« True Seeding Waits | Main | Lucky Seeds »
April 30, 2007
Deerhunter, Live @ the Mercury Lounge, 4.26.2007
photos by Devon Banks
I'm not sure why I was startled by the sudden emergence of "Cryptograms" at the beginning of Deerhunter's set last Thursday. I mean, the transition from still ambient buzz to wild kraut chug was their second album's key trick. I guess I had just considered the high levels of shapeless squall a neat bit of theory, making the home listener fidget before you knock 'em dead. In person, hit with the actual weight of the sonics, getting dazed in the lead-up was easy. When the drums kicked in, I'd forgotten that it was an impending prospect. Of course this was the only song before Bradford Cox slipped off his trousers and slipped into "Whatever Happened to Baby Lurch?" mode, so slipping dreamily into the music wasn't going to be an option for long. From there, rapt attention was required.
During the second bout of radiating feedback patterns, Cox somehow crouched his enormous length behind an amp, de-pantsed and bit into a massive fake blood packet. This freed enough red goo that when he emerged in a little white dress you didn't have much time to be freaked out by that before being made uncomfortable by the viscera covering his lips and teeth. There was so much of it spreading to his face and hands that there was never a moment when the gore might have seemed genuine. As powerful as the band was, breaking from the fog again to attack "Wash Off" (the brutal finale from the "Fluorescent Grey" EP), it's an image like a battered gaunt cross-dresser with an entire microphone in his mouth that'll stay with you.
Despite being overshadowed, let it be said that Cox's band mates were on top form. The chiming guitar leads, the methed-up motorik rhythm, and the gushing walls of sound, all nailed. Further, they did it with such a casual, good nature that it made their singer's antics seem even stranger. They were like a bunch of high school friends whose pal and frontman was unfortunately turned into a zombie. They couldn't bear to shoot him, so they just kept on letting him sing lead and tossed him a brain now and again. While he paced and staggered about, climbed the drum set, or fiendishly invaded their personal spaces, they just played happily along. They chatted with the audience, or playfully put on fans' hats and glasses. It's easy to envision the preceding backstage meeting. "Alright guys, just act like everything's normal!"
For all his bizarre affectations, Cox's voice was quite formidable in a live setting. He easily replicated the airy melodies and aggressive enunciation that seem like the work of crack engineers on disc. The overwhelming volume made Cryptograms' pure pop numbers, like the gorgeous "Spring Hall Convert", into more sinister freak-outs. Around that song, a doe eyed Karen O crawled through the packed room to a stage center position, taking notes from her one time tour openers. She's frequently touting their shows in the press as "a religious experience." When the dominant "Hazel Street" segued into the thrilling "ambient punk" of "Octet," her prescient patronage was more than validated.
The final song of the night was a ragged, blistering version of the band's most incongruously sunny track, "Strange Lights." Again, the sweet melody took on a frayed and fucked up tone. But for the first time the rest of the band lost their cool reserve; writhing on the stage, rutting in the feedback, embracing the theater of the show at last. With the blood smeared face and dress, towering over his fallen, quivering chums, Cox seemed ripped from a horror movie. The kind you see on late night cable as a kid, scarring you enough that you still avoid it on idle flip throughs. The band unplugged and picked themselves up, shuffling offstage like it was no big deal. There was no encore, nor a real need for one. At only eight songs (plus a couple ambient passages) it was an early front runner for gig of the year.
Deerhunter - "Fluorescent Grey"
This might be the best video we've yet foisted upon the public, though the audio is inevitably limited. It's just that the inward fuzz of the compromised recording dovetails nicely with the waves of outward fuzz emanating from the stage. The main guitar melody chimes through just as easily as it does on record, though Bradford Cox's voice is buried. When it does break through, like in the blood curdling "Hiiiiiiiiiiiis body will decay!" around the 1:38 mark, you know he's really screeching. This, remember, is the song's gentle build-up. When our patience has paid off and the guitars really kick in at 2:54, the technology is totally over matched. We're left with white noise, white lights, and pale white flesh. Not an entirely inaccurate lasting impression of the night.
Deerhunter - "Fluorescent Grey"
// Deerhunter - band site
// Deerhunter - MySpace
// Deerhunter - Cryptograms buy
More carnage (and a fuzzy Karen O sighting) on the flip...
Karen O looks on lovingly as Bradford wigs out.
What the fuck's even going on here?
The end of show writhing was the only time the rest of the band really got into the act.
Somewhere, Richard D. James is getting an idea for a new video.
Posted by Jeff Klingman at April 30, 2007 08:40 AM
Trackback Pings
TrackBack URL for this entry:
http://www.merryswankster.com/movabletype/mt-tb.cgi/886
