Radian + Machine Drum + Band of the Name + H8

The Austrian trio Radian masterfully compose minimalist digijazz on the Warehouse Next Door’s intimate stage, as thirty or so mostly late-20s hipsters bob their heads approvingly. It’s hard to believe a night like this began with two hyperactive dimwits jumping around in Day-Glo wigs sporting fake Britposh accents. Clytemnestra and Aegis, who together form glitch-pop duo H8, were so zealously in-your-face in their attempt to get people to loosen up that audience members shrank away, hoping against hope no one would make them dance. H8’s songs, which conjured thoughts of Le Tigre caught in outer space, were as cartoonish as the act’s costumes. In green-and-white-striped leotard and hot pink bob, Clytemnestra ripped open her jean jacket to spill a slew of small springs on to the floor. No one knew quite what to do with them and so again, they shrank away slowly, hoping against hope she wouldn’t throw anything sharp. More in the vein of aimless silliness than any serious performance art venture, H8’s act earned awkward smiles and defensive postures but not, and this is clearly observational speculation, many fans. To their credit, they probably would have rocked a softer crowd — sorry, but we were hungry for mesmeric post-jazz (or whatever) and thus not receptive to such tomfoolery. Clytemnestra and Aegis popped up throughout the evening, staging a coup d’etat during the next group’s performance. Band of the Name didn’t look too concerned, playing along in black-and-googly-eyed attire as its lead singer tore off Clytemnestra’s gas mask and watched her pretend to die in what was obviously a planned skit. No beats lost — the Orlando band’s four young mathrockers competed just fine with H8’s zaniness while offering more in the way of actual music, zinging out fast-paced, complexly structured rockouts that locked into new phrases and time signatures helter skelter. And then! Ditching the spiky yellow wig and green-tights facemask in favor of a polo shirt, à la Clark Kent, Aegis made an astounding transformation into Travis-Stewart-as-one-man-Machine-Drum. Stewart’s set was fantastic, though a bit too quick. It shifted the tone to one more interested in sound itself rather than performance. Machine Drum’s genre is blip-hop-jazz collage, oft-called IDM, which I take to be a misnomer of a genre (would anyone dub their dance music “non-intelligent”?). Stewart’s main tool was, not surprisingly, a laptop, and he supplemented it nicely with his own guitar work and the rhythms of Band of the Name’s super skilled drummer. As soon as Machine Drum moved to a more beat-heavy song, Clytemnestra (real name Natalie Weiss of Unicornicopia) and Band of the Name’s lead singer returned to ruin the vibe via a “dance-off” featuring two mini-trampolines and some close calls involving flying feet and audience member’s heads. Yeah, fun for you, but next time, can we focus on Machine Drum’s song-splicing minus the unwelcome distractions? Thanks! After this uneven but wonderfully chaotic introduction, I wasn’t sure what to expect from Radian, of whose four-album oeuvre I had only heard five or so songs. Hooray, no more forced smiles! Henceforth, musical intensity replaced inanity, and just about everyone clung on. A trio of classically trained jazz musicians, Radian sits on Chicago’s Thrill Jockey label with likeminded instrumental peers Tortoise. The group builds its songs slowly, with intent. This is one band I would encourage listeners to seek out live — their work sounds great on record, but the experience of actually watching the songs being assembled is more rewarding by miles. A typical Radian song starts when Stefan Németh introduces a skittering sample via synthesizer, modifying it carefully as John Norman oozes out rich tones on bass. Behind them on drums, Martin Brandlmayr pulls out brushes and starts etching circles on his drumheads. The music builds, shifting directions until it hits full-bloom and either dissipates nearly immediately post-climax or dwindles away in a satisfying denouement. I cannot stress enough how fascinating it was to see this on stage. Norman’s technique was incredibly nuanced; he’d tap a string, and then nudge it up or down to stretch out its tone until artistry demanded dampening. His notes were few and long, perfectly laid pulses that capitalized on the bass guitar’s singular richness. Likewise, Brandlmayr’s percussion work was just cool to watch. Using mostly brushes, he scraped out sound by scratching patterns onto the drumheads. He occasionally brought out a string bow to play the edge of the ride cymbal, and he even doubled up at one point, using drumsticks and brushes simultaneously. Németh’s work on synthesizer and computer was equally nuanced and controlled — I can’t say I know what he was doing, since his decks were tilted away, but whatever it was did the band good. All together, the trio sounded like very effective hypnotism. The three talked little, pausing only for mumbled “thank you”s and slight nods of the head. Showing an impressive range of structures and tempos and a penchant for tightly controlled improvisation, Radian clearly knows how to jazz out, essentially riffing on the school of riff. In this post-everything world, it’s really a bit lazy to label Radian “post-jazz”, but accuracy agrees with the term. But, as with all good music, the sound really defies description.