Dead Science & Sunburned Hand of the Man

Concert Reviews • Wednesday October 22nd, 2008 • 10:13 am

The Earl’s line-up on October 8, 2008 seemed severely diverse, offering the entire spectrum of sonic extremes. Slotted in the middle of the week, the show allured a small yet enthusiastic crowd. And the whole night felt like a mood swing.

Locals Magic Apron opened with an acoustic droning set overflowing with forlorn, neo-romantic lyricism whose sweet sounding songs often hide a derelict, creeping eeriness. Another local band, whose name was mumbled into the heavy shitted out mush of one thousand gratuitous effects boxes, offered some very passionate space rock though verging on generic magic hat tricks.

I had never seen Dead Science before. Like a sudden, sustained electric shock, the three piece made a sound 10 times louder and intense then what seems possible. Dead Science serves as a perfect example when a band truly interlocks creating an authentic, collaborative, holistic experience while each member magically retains his uniqueness. Drummer Koren Bischoff played furiously in warp speed. Beats incorporated free jazz, jungle hard core, no wave and strange calypso allusions. I don’t understand how his glasses did not fly off his manic pivoting head. Bassist Jherek did a sort of jig while playing the bass more like a guitar. Guitarist and vocalist Sam Mickens blasted out a sonic palette that on one extreme was scathingly trebly sounding like crashing glass or the delicacy of stepping on a shard or the calm direct force of glass going deep into your foot. Vocals were theatrical, soaring yet immediate. Cabaret, show tunes, opera and Andrew Lloyd Webber come to mind. Micker let out strange vocalizations that sounded like angsty pining gone absurd. Though emotionally effective, vocal histrionics often shattered any possible concentration to decipher song lyrics. I heard mentions of poisons and antidotes, that’s all I know.

Micker’s physical stage presence was natural despite his dramatic essence. Often at any moment he seemed subtly posed to be pulled up in the air as if he was in a avante garde Peter Pan production. On stage banter was severely calm compared to the madly intense song performances.

For Sunburned Hand of the Man and Dead Science to tour together is peculiar, though this works through the severe constraints of two different, experimental aesthetics. While Dead Science are concise and tightly wound, Sunburned spill out as a force of nature eschewing start-to-finish structures to actually approaching songs as improvisational opportunities that genesis themselves. Ringleader John Moloney announced they were there to “get loose” and so they did in an anti-jam band way.

A large collective whose exact number cannot be determined, shifting dynamics from tour to tour is a given. The recent death of member Adam Noodale has definitively wrought changes to the group yet to pinpoint this is difficult for out of the eight or so Sunburned performances I’ve witnessed, group dynamics blurred and fogged together due to their larger size. Unusual, only a small four member line up took stage compared to at least a sprawling six member group tangled up. The opener was a little uneven, but as they said they were just getting loose. Moloney went on and on about how much he liked Atlanta in the vaguest terms. Members seemed tired yet intensely focused with ADHD tendencies that added atmospherically instead of distracted folly.

The second song as improvisation finally got into some deep grooves exploring a dirge of sorts by way of blues and reggae. It was peculiar to witness and hear a melodica playing blues progressions. The band’s sole touring female member came across as the most aggressively dissonant with her arsenal of non-gratuitous stomp boxes. Her banshee wails processed through robotic filters certainly was chilling to the marrow, yet to not see her whole approach of the unleashing of positive anger would be a mistake.

Though their whole performance was a high point in itsefl, stand out moments still come to mind. Two drummers at once where neither drummer misses a beat ranks high. Though Sunburned superficially seems the epitome of esoteric mysticism and heavy transcendence through music, many forget they do so as a bunch of rag tag goof balls. Many instances found one member laughing at the other during the set. Moloney’s lyrics ranged from perpendicular incantations against the world’s collapsing economic quagmire to “hotdog in your pupil.”

Sunburned Hand of the Man is hell bent on simply being human through spontaneity in high gear. From past show experiences, that made for difficult listening as any song may crash and burn into meandering dullness. This performance did have slow moments though they never collapsed and cannibalized itself musically. Sunburned are in their most natural habitat when playing live and the continual intensity is worth it, be it cataclysmic heart smashing or stupidity’s zenith.