Ian Macmillan at his station of sound and Brendan Spengler with his organ and synthesizers delivered strange electronic sounds strung together to form a mood of odd journey while trippy black and white animations and visuals played behind them. I had no earthly idea where their set would go next from B movie science fiction sound effects to bass heavy rattlers up until the drippy end. Blue and red and orange lights danced about the stage to add another dimension to the performance. It was clear after the first five minutes that grooving was not in the agenda for Macmillan and Spengler, but rather something deep and moving. And when the lights dimmed and the bumper music came back on, I felt like I could finally relax.

While I waited for the next set, I wondered if this rabbit hole of electronic weird went deeper. And my question was answered in the form of Lawrence English. He started in the midst of the crowd and prefaced by explaining his performance would be about the problems we all face will be solved by unity. He also invited us to all lay down on the floor to experience his music. So I, along with the other curious members of the crowd, took our positions on the cool floor.

The performance that ensued was loud and abrasive, thunderous and overbearing. The sheer volume and level of bass rattled the whole floor, and I could feel the shockwave in my back and bones. I looked to the stage and saw English, at his table, illuminated by pulsing red light before it faded, shrouding him in darkness, before slowly returning to brightness. It was a totally unforgettable sight. As the performance went on my ears grew weary of the onslaught of noise, but luckily before it outlived its welcome, English brought his set to a close with a minute of soothing ambiance before the lights went out and the bumper music played.

I picked myself up and carried myself back to a table, where I waited for the third act to begin. At that point I had become totally frazzled and resigned to the unpredictability of the show, and any dream of predicting where it could go would be foolish.

And last, but certainly not least, Elysia Crampton took the stage with a big key-tar and a tiny synth set. Right off the bat she establishes her deviance from the first two acts by playing a rhythm and beat to her music that I even found myself toe-tapping along to.  These familiar sounds were punctuated and often interrupted by electronic booms and recording rips of laughter, strange noise, and garbled speaking. Her music morphed from something ancient and primal to stormlike, and even to the loud rattling of what sounded like gunfire until she settled down her act to end the show. It was a knockout performance of odd creativity.

I left Gabe’s that night with my ears ringing and my mind stunned. I had never seen anything like that before, nor had I listened to anything like it. With Macmillan and Spengler I was along for their ride, and with English and Crampton I felt their themes and messages resonate in me. It was a mood I totally did not expect. These types of shows are not for everyone, and require a deal of patience and open mindedness to appreciate. But I can say that these artists are remarkably unique, creative, and well worth your time.

The post Mission Creek: MacMillan and Spengler @ Gabe’s 4/5/17 appeared first on KRUI Radio.

The evenings mood was set by haunting performances from Brad Highnam and TALsounds. Highnam, who is from Iowa City, conjured mystical images of expansive places by layering his wailing harmonica and recorder over deep, muttering bass pulses. He was the lone star of the space he created. Then TALsounds took stage right, swiveling around her retinue of instruments, and weaving to her beats while freely singing. Between the droning and distorted dial-up tones, her ultra-pretty voice slithered over the heavy noise, creating the effect of a distorted, electric angelic choir.

Meanwhile, the audience had slowly been multiplying. People noiselessly made their way in, unnoticed until realizing the room has filled out. Everyone stood at appropriate, respectful distances, turning their full attentions to the stage. The venue was filled with an acute intensity that could not be ignored, especially for a crowd so quiet. There was no dancing, singing along, or even much chatter at Gabe’s that night – mostly concentrated faces, crossed arms, and hungry eyes.

And though there was singing and distorted vocals, none of the performers so far had really said a word, introduced themselves, preface their music – really, any direct communication at all. But the sounds being made were not about lyricism and form – rather, the improvised, creation, and atmosphere. The sets unfolded quite organically for electronic noise; not at all like the bop of EDM, but still more alien than traditional instruments. The performance aspects of this show were just as crucial as any other, but these were comprised of one or two people instead of an entire band. What limits a five-piece group, or even just the acoustic, can liberate a hand or two at a soundboard.

Finally, HEXA took the stage. Facing each other, right and left, Lawrence English and Jamie Stewart didn’t appear to be dueling, or even looking for visual cues in each other. With clean, contorted trances, the duo cranked out heavy bass, and began to layer a display that flexed and remolded my imagination.

In the background cycled a series of David Lynch’s industrial photos that inspired HEXA in its origins. Something that looked like a microphone with a custom mouthpiece was blown, creating a grating buzzing. Abrasive sounds fazed in and out – what sounded like metal crashing and scraping together, like stone and concrete – and eventually, English moved to the three cymbals on his side of the front stage. He viciously rolled the cymbals with fuzzy mallets. And then Jamie Stewart laid his beat and moved to his own ho-hat and stacked cymbals. These he utilized with drumsticks, with a similar ferocity to match his partner, until the instruments could sing for them no louder.

Thus, amidst their technological creation, they also managed to demonstrate a basic principle of acoustics: I hit things, and they make noise. The duo returned to their respective stations. The sound kept grinding, but mellowed out. Bizzare drones and reverbrations came from what I can only describe as a vibrating contraption in a cup. Everything faded into that deep, pervasive bass at the foundation of the sound. And then Lawrence English made a grateful gesture towards the crowd with his wide-brimmed hat. The noise sputtered, then was at rest.

This was not the easiest performance to listen to. Just as reading poetry isn’t as straightforward and sensible as prose, HEXA’s industrial concept isn’t just about auditory pleasure. But their audio-visual experience created just that – an experience – that pushes how we can perceive and create an environment with sound.

Factory Photographs by HEXA

English will also be return to the stage at Gabe’s tonight with Elysia Crampton, MacMillan and Spengler

The post Mission Creek: HEXA (Xiu Xiu + Lawrence English) @ Gabe’s 4/4/2017 appeared first on KRUI Radio.