So, in contrast to the previous post, last night's White Water show offered the inimitable Hella. Where Saturday night's Big Silver was even keeled and well tempered, Tuesday night's Hella was aggressively fuzzy and playfully unbalanced. Imagine Chewbacca on a free jazz binge and you get the idea of the kind of benevolent monster thrash these guys kicked out. The guitarist unleashed squalls of arthritic finger taps in counterpoint to the bassist's arrhythmic belching. Add to this theramin-ish keyboard squeals and/or the occassional 6-bit Ms Pacman melody as played by an unshaven fast forward button in blue, plastic-teethed Venetian blind sunglasses and you're getting closer to the action. But really these 3 wunderkinds only form the "H" in the band. The "ella" is the drums, a one man army with whirlwind chops and Big Foot stomps. Unamplified, he was the loudest in the room. Imagine a speed freak clear cutting Monet's Garden at Giverny and you get an idea of the destructive, manic art-energy this guy applied to his instrument. Unleashing relentless, righteous fills and flams, this dude and his tangled rhythms were the centerpiece in this glorious 4 panel squelch/clamor/growl/avalanche tableau. I was especially digging his cymbal work, paying particular attention to his buzzsaw blade ride and his rusty hubcap crash that went kerrprowwwshhh and dinkdunk respectively. So there you have it, 4 spastic muppets too "out" to make Oingo Boingo and too "new wave" for Beefheart. Unfortunately my ears can withstand a lot more than my eyes, and after 45 minutes I succumbed to all the cigarette smoke. Such a nasty habit. When will the kids ever learn? I guess I'll have to wait for Lightning Bolt to play the local oxygen bar if I ever want to see an entire set of sonic, action painting.
As a side note, I dedicate my freshest Garageband creation - Black Cloud (Batman Mix) - to all those lovely, chain-smoking, Marlboro plebes.
Posted by Red Chuck at November 30, 2005 12:52 AM