by neil roberts

It was advertised as an experimental dance party. I had some steam to blow, and I told myself I was going to have a musically enriching and inspiring experience whether I liked it or not. Take in your surroundings, meet some people, get out of Brooklyn for once. So I put on a tie, and went to Santos Party House, late night, after taking two wrong trains because I like figuring out how Panda Bear makes his shit and I get distracted. I walked into a dimly blue lit room sectioned off by draping black trash bags. It was reasonably crowded, the vibe, groovy, good dj, a few females worth glancin at and wishing I had the guts to talk to… I was feeling good. Snapped open my usual recession PBR, and tried to get close to the action.

Artist: Fat Worm of Error
Song: La Mort Dans La Ville Du Bois Vert

I missed the Noise Nomads, but I arrived just as Fat Worm was about to Play. The drummer, in short short shorts dressed like eager to start started lean-dancing into the crowd, all of a sudden. A BEAR! with a backpack and a microphone began to Octavize, Harmonize, and straight squeal out spazz’s and speeches through a myriad of effects pedals. The Other Musicians all immediately went trance once the performance began. The Bassist constantly tuning and detuning his bass playing a seemingly rhythmless sequence as the two guitarist, pedaled up, traded turret like turns, blurting out obscenities. This music was crass and cacophonic, it really started to get to me. Wow… I’d never heard anything like this before. It literally started to make me feel insane. Devoid of melody, harmony, structure or form. Now I’m all for going out of your mind in order to truly find yourself. “Everybody’s a mad scientist, and life is their lab. We’re all trying to experiment to find a way to live, to solve problems, to fend off madness and chaos.” * So I tried to relate to the madness they were resonating. I tried, and tried and I couldn’t. I couldn’t even think clearly. This music was truly fucking with me. The set turned into a bad trip, like tornado of senses.

Thurston Moore came out with Okkyung Lee, and Ikue More. I was optimistic. Thurston with a circuit bent guitar on his lap with all sorts of homemade attachments. Then a lap top and a Cello. It seemed harmless and intriguing. It wasn’t. Explosions of beats, randomized harmonics and bends from the cello mixed with the constant screaming of the guitar played with knives. I took my pictures and then left. I was loosing it. This music was definitely for someone else. I had to catch my breath outside and let my mind calm back down. I was truly affected by what I had seen. So in a since I guess it did it’s job. Truly Experiential Sound had been made. I really wouldn’t even call it music. Do I have the jurisdiction to say that?
“All life is an experiment. The more experiments you make the better.”**

* David Cronnenburg
**Ralph Waldo Emerson.

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