La Sottarena: Welcome to the Experiment
Korea Town Acid had, in my opinion, stolen the show during MUTEK two years ago. Her music is cutting edge, her approach totally experimental. What was she doing at La Sottarena with two hardcore punk bands? Something about a video game? Most of her set seems to have gone completely over the crowd’s heads, which somehow made it even more special for me and the handful of other people I could see bobbing in ecstasy. Her set jostled between an eclectic selection of breaks, orchestral pads, jazz chords and soul samples, which she was launching live, a mind-boggling technical feat.
To call her simply a DJ would be like doing the same to Arca, technically accurate, but wildly insufficient. The word feels too small for what unfolds. Both move far beyond that narrow frame, less selectors than conjurers. In a previous interview with PAN M 360, K.T.A. describes a constant readjustment with the crowd, but as she occasionally looked up for vibe checks, nothing but a slightly tipsy “woo” girl was cheering her on.
Her set ended somewhat anticlimactically, with the announcer barely acknowledging this fantastic performance, instead promoting the video game.
“So for this evening we-”
“Koreaa Town Acid!! Woooo!”
“Yes, give it up for Korea Town Acid, and next up we have Nuha Ruby Ra.”
The stage presence was excellent. Nuha Ruby Ra had swagger like M.I.A., a demented smile and a commanding tone that could cast a spell. “Get fucking closer to the stage.” Without noticing, my feet moved forward. As for the music, she said herself: “This set is experimental, we came all the way here to test out material.” It was like an atonal Channel Beads, or maybe the singing was out of tune. With that comment from Nuha, it became hard to tell apart what was intentional or not. Taverne Tour is about bringing your A-game, and this felt just slightly disconnected, with the guitarist not looking too inspired to play alone over backing tracks, and Nuha maybe more aware of this gap in reality than she could admit. After three songs, I kicked it for Casa.
Casa Del Popolo: Gymshorts Takes the Bit all the Way
At Casa Del Popolo, Gymshorts was playing and it was anything but self-indulgent. With members from Providence and Boston, they conjured a scene of gritty DIY East Coast musicians that just love what they do.
Between each verse and chorus, the lead singer and guitarist, Sarah Greenwell, dipped back to give her bandmates a chuckling smile as if she were egging them on. It worked. Both the guitarist and bassist jumped fervently like it was an early iPod ad. A welcomed change. The music took me back to simple times. It had a well-dosed air of 2000s pop-punk, but Greenwell’s raspy low voice rang deeper into influences like Ana da Silva of The Raincoats. Just on the verge of losing control, yet always completely emotionally present.
It felt like each two-minute song was their last and if you had seen this band on some fortunate evening at Barfly, you would be raving about it for years. I only left because I didn’t want it to end.
While I was leaving, Greenwell began playing a song about American racecar driver Jeff Goldblum, while playing a Jeff Goldblum-themed guitar. Oh, did I mention she was wearing gym shorts? If you want to get in on the joke, I highly recommend going through their discography, with one of her top hits being DUI IUD, a song about, yes you guessed it, getting a DUI instead of an IUD.
Sala Rosa: Reaching for the Heavens
My first impression walking in was a burly man with a cowboy hat who smiled at me from the corner of his mouth. We could write an entire essay about Sean Nicholas Savage’s iconic performances, but for the full story I’ll hand it to our Sala Rosa correspondent Laurent Pellerin’s review.
Christopher Owens: The Cherry on Top
The outsider weirdness of Daniel Johnston, the edgy honesty of Elliott Smith, and the lightness of Neil Young combine to make Christopher Owens. Possibly one of our generation’s greatest songwriters, as Sean Nicholas Savage put it. And I defer. Christopher Owens made me believe in love again. He gives a twist to the qualms, a hope to the misery we always knew existed but were too stubborn to let wash over us. He, on the other hand, had nothing to hide. It felt safe, yet uncomfortable. It felt like growing. He stumbled as he walked, but it was always in the right direction.
Between songs there was some awkward stage banter, something about how the film “The Plumber” had changed his life. The rest was hard to decipher. It always felt like it could go south, but it didn’t. He held that fine line of being both vulnerable with himself and open to us. A true gift on this first night of Taverne Tour, the likes of emotional honesty and deepfelt joy I haven’t experienced since the Beverly Glenn-Copeland show.
Last night, Taverne Tour reminded me that if you know what you’re looking for, you’ll find it.
