Nels Cline, Toshi Makihara & Wally Shoup
@
I-Spy
June 28, 2001
Seattle, WA

Links:
Nels Cline
Seattle Improvised Music Festival

Cline has been labeled one of the most experimental and versatile guitarists working today and has an award from the L.A. Weekly Music Awards to prove it (a dubious distinction of being the "Best New Genre/Uncategorized Artist" in 1999). His list of collaborators is longer than both of your arms and he recently recorded a remarkably precise recording of John Coltrane's Interstellar Space. Toshi Makihara is a unique percussionist whose improvisational skills include using anything on the stage that isn't nailed down. The trio was rounded out by saxophonist Wally Shoup, an improv vet with more than 30 years of playing off the cuff to his benefit. This show was their second time playing together, as they had just performed the night before at the Vancouver Jazz Festival.

There was a certain lack of pretension to the proceedings. It took the trio about 10 minutes to set up after the opening act (violinist Eyvind Kang and sonic manipulator Tucker Martine). There wasn't a lot of posturing and swaggering and hauling of equipment around, just the three men and their instruments. Makihara's drum kit was so minimal that it could have very easily been bought at the closet pawn shop about 15 minutes before the show. The three men arranged themselves on stage, met eyes once to find a beat, and then launched into a blistering, roaring piece that lasted nearly 30 minutes.

You've got to appreciate shows where the obvious intent is simply to play--large and hard. Working through several tidal cycles of sound, the three spiraled around one another, pulling and pushing with their melodies, sonic assaults, and beats. Cline worked his way through a number of hand-held objects, distorting and bending the sound coming off his strings, while his hands remained in constant motion about the strings and body of the guitar (yeah, I know, I just made it sound like he had three hands and, frankly, it would take me three--maybe four--to even attempt to touch and feel everything that he was at any given time). Shoup's saxophone seemed to vibrate and soar with little or no motion on the part of its player. Makihara's drum kit was trying so hard to get away from his punishing assault on its tender skins that he finally had to slap a cinder block down behind the bass drum to keep the damn thing from running away.

At the end of their first number, a member of the audience shouted, "Encore!" Shoup ambled up to his microphone and smiled out at the intimate and appreciative audience and drawled, "That was our warm-up." You can call it "free" or "sonic" or "noise" or even a "warm-up," but as they continued their blistering and spacious improvisational excursions for the gathered audience, you couldn't argue that they weren't having a great time. And maybe that is all there ultimately is to improv: an exploration of music by any means which you can lay your hands on. It may not be very pretty and certainly won't be something that you'll hear on the Top 40 Radio, but you can certainly bank that it will be the most concentrated and emotionally raw music that you can find.

-Mark Teppo
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Links:
ohGr
Skinny Puppy

I was seeing them at the Showbox, arguably the best place in Seattle to see a band. Props must go out to Rick Wyatt, who was putting the show on due to the February 28th earthquake that robbed him and Seattle of its premier goth and industrial club, The Fenix Aboveground. I arrived early to check the scene and perhaps get a glimpse of the man. After several bottles of water, just as many Red Bulls, and a rocking Hate Dept., my friend Becky showed up. We immediately ordered up the Red Bull and Vodka that would bring on the chaotic demeanor that only such a concoction can. My worries that attendance would be low were squelched by hordes of the black clan.

ohGr took the stage with reckless abandon and, garbed in his best monkey outfit, proceeded to catapult any Skinny Puppy naysayers into a tail-between-the-legs position. 30 seconds into "Earthworm" and it became immediately apparent that this live set was going to be far more aggressive and Puppy-like than Welt. ohGr's voice is one thing, but to have cEvin laying the beat for him meant the soldiers were trading brooms in for guns. During the first few songs, ohGr went through several mask changes, mock stabbing each one as it came off so as to destroy and reveal layers of himself. The band (William Morris on guitar, Tim Skold on bass, and Loki on keyboards) stepped in perfectly to help create a set of tightly-wound aggro-wave that put them on par with a well oiled tribe on the war path.

Playing every song on Welt (with the exception of "Pore"), and at least five songs not the album, including "Magic," the frenzied set ended with "Frozen Sky," a track off of the new cEvin Key album featuring ohGr. Needless to say, the song was well received as well it should have been due to its completely "coming unglued" nature. The stage visuals weren't working, so Seattle got a stripped-down rock show, the highlight being when ohGr appeased everyone and went for his legendary cat scream--and kept it going just long enough to let everyone know who was in charge. ohGr, sweet ohGr.

-Jeff Ashley
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Links:
Public Enemy

The affair started off with flashing sirens and the sound of klaxons. One by one they took the stage--Griff with the Security of the First World (who brandished Japanese short swords and intermittently showed off their best boy band dance moves), Chuck D. (who deftly moved about stage as he shadow boxed the crowd), and court jester Flava Flav, sporting his signature clock (which kept good time, btw)--and kicked the night off with "Prophets of Rage." Backing them on drums, bass, and a guitar player who could easily be Alain Jourgansen's black cousin was Detroit's 7 Octave, and replacing Terminator X on the turntables was DJ Lord of the House. Taking time between numbers to connect with the crowd, Chuck D. promised both new and old material...and Public Enemy delivered in high style. "Welcome to the Terrordome," "911 Is a Joke," "He Got Game," "Fight the Power," "Bring the Noise," "Black Steel in the Hour of Chaos," "By the Time I Got to Arizona," "Public Enemy #1" and a dozen more--all raised the revolutionary flag higher and got people's fists pumping in the air. Behind me stood a young black man who shouted every lyric along with Mistah Chuck, fervently chanting as if each word were a prayer unto itself.

Chuck dedicated the night to John Lee Hooker (R.I.P.) and David Walker (who was shot last year by Seattle police), and then launched into a fantastic free form version of Hooker's "Boom Boom Boom." Amazing. Chuck then went on to explain the flak he'd gotten recently over playing EMP, a venue/museum that featured Elvis, a figure he has publicly denounced. The PE frontman explained that he had nothing against Elvis as a musician, but everything against the caricature he had become and what he ended up representing. "It is not a contradiction for PE to play here." After finishing with his explanation, Flava Flav added, "I respect you, Chuck...but fuck Elvis. And fuck John Wayne and the horse he road in on. And fuck hippies." The crowd roared.

7 Octave and DJ Lord of the House held it tight and heavy, and you could feel the chemistry flowing between Chuck, Flav and Griff, and that energy was reflected back out onto the crowd. For "Night of the Living Baseheads" Flav sat behind the drum kit and kicked out an impressive beat. Taking the mic by himself, he got the audience to scream at the top of their lungs for 30 seconds, and then followed that up with a solo rap over "41:19," a song about Amadou Diallo (someone who police shot and killed because they mistook the cell phone he was holding for a gun), the number of bullets shot at him by police (41), and the number that hit him (19). Griff stepped up next and got 7 Octave to kick out the riffs for Hendrix's "Freedom," which he rapped over. He then pulled off "What Good Is a Bomb?" a number that had a guitar heavy Confrontation Camp feel to it.

The night ended with "She Watch Channel Zero," with Chuck's final comments being on the recent Seattle Police shooting of Aaron Roberts. "Teach police to respect and serve the people--not property." Amen. Public Enemy again more than proved that both their message and music is still revolutionary and still much needed. A collective of radicals who, even after nearly 20 years fighting the good fight, take the time out to talk and teach one-on-one--who understand that the message is universal and we're all responsible for what happens. And here in Seattle, where non-existent police and government accountability is enforced again and again with discriminatory brutality, we could use a few more soothsayers like Chuck D. an Public Enemy.

-Craig Young
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