Wolf Eyes + Prurient + Rubble

”This is the worst shit I’ve ever heard in my life.” That’s one of the many comments I overheard during Wolf Eyes’ set. It’s true, for folks who had wandered in from the Queers’ pop-punk show next door — or who came simply because the band is on Sub Pop – it may very well have been like going for a sundae and getting a shit sandwich instead. Of course not everyone came unaware… Opening the show were Austin’s own Rubble, wielding covers of The Groundhogs’ “Mistreat” and Joe Byrd and the Field Hippies’ “Waiting to Die”. These, as well as several other extend-o-jams, featured feedback and heart attack drums courtesy of ex-Butthole Surfer King Coffey. Singer/guitarist Shawn McMillen put his guitar down during a few of their freak-out breakdowns and wandered around the crowd like a derelict, talking Southern spiritual gibberish and playing a small horn. Next was Prurient, a one-man attack by the name of Dominick Fernow. His Load Records debut Black Vase is a swirling vortex of noise and effects and sounds like someone digging through boxes of scrap metal in their garage while getting angry because they can’t find their good screwdriver. Fernow appeared suddenly on stage, shirtless in tight black jeans, and began screaming into each of two microphones he was holding. In front of him sat an open black suitcase, ostensibly full of wires and plugs. During the course of his set, with his back mostly turned to the crowd, Fernow screamed, attacked his suitcase, punched his amps, and created some of the most disturbing, seismic sounds you can imagine. High-pitched squeals, demonic gurgling and highly erotic grunts came from either his mouth or the amp or some black hole forming under the stage — it was hard to tell which. The only intelligible words were “Get out of the way,” and at one point, when he was tangled up in all the wires, it actually looked like he was being birthed, Tetsuo-style. Afterwards, a friend gave his two cents: “If I wanted to see some guy screaming with his shirt off, I’d go visit my dad.” As mentioned before, this kind of music is not for everyone, and it certainly seemed to be weighing on the folks sitting down with their fingers in their ears. But for those who find a certain beauty in low-end massacres of the ear’s cilia, it’s a welcome change from the traditional two guitar/bass/drums set-up. Instead, why not incorporate a gong, a homemade one-string bass, and an out of tune saxophone? Says Wolf Eyes: “Why not indeed?” Their 2001 release Dread borrowed Throbbing Gristle’s metallic blender beats and poured in Harry Pussy’s penchant for chaotic meandering. The band’s 2004 Sub Pop debut Burned Mind keeps the noise at 11, but congeals things a bit. Their song titles (“Stabbed in the Face”, “Black Vomit”) may suggest that Wolf Eyes’ collective energy is being focused on scaring the shit out of you, making the listener uncomfortable, or making you want to scoop out your eardrums with a melon baller. On stage, though, it’s different. Dressed in sunglasses (two of the guys) and a leather vest (the sax player), the Detroit trio is, to some extent, poking fun at themselves and the 27th noise/no wave to crest in the Northeast. The set started with one of the guys screaming (again); John Olson alternated between sax, a single-stringed bass and a gong, while guitarist Mike Connelly (of Hair Police) and Nathan Young worked the electronics. Then Olson began banging on what looked like a piece of scrap metal and Connelly scraped the microphone across a circuit board, creating a sound like firecrackers while Young played a small, bowed instrument. It was like watching kids in a high school woodworking class. A black and blue drum machine rumble continued underneath the noise, and at one point all three Eyes were screaming. A couple was making out. A man took off his shirt. A mosh pit started. A bottle broke. A crow flew. This is a chain reaction caused by calculated noise. Wolf Eyes are making that noise, not just by pushing buttons on an iBook; they’re actually confronting their instruments. (And confronting the crowd: Between songs, when an audience member was trying to take photos of the band at the foot of the stage, Olson said, in a gruff New Yawk accent “Hey, Oliver Stone, give us some room here.”) It’s this kind of humor that makes Wolf Eyes work. It’s noise that makes you feel strangely elated, Of course, if you’re not ready to be penetrated, if you’re not ready for the sandwich, then it could definitely end up being the worst shit you’ve ever heard.