by Laura Wasson
One thing you don’t expect upon entering the elegant and modern Merkin Concert Hall is to be offered ear plugs. I took a pair from the friendly usher, not really expecting to use them, but as soon as the first number began it became apparent that they might be needed after all. It was going to get loud, very loud. Composer Rhys Chatham and the various members of Oneida trickled out onto the stage, one by one, for the first number, “The Graven Image”. Beginning with Bobby Matador’s low, rumbling synthesizer and Chatham’s groaning guitar, the composition was built piece by piece until it formed a veritable wall of sound with only Kid Millions’ frenetic drumming breaking free of the drone into some semblance of melody. It was hardly surprising that before the piece was over at least a few in the audience were either feverishly inserting ear plugs or leaving altogether.
Chatham and Oneida came together for this special evening as part of the Ecstatic Music Festival. They composed the eight new songs together, blending Oneida’s natural affinity for driving, noise rock with Chatham’s more cerebral guitar and trumpet work. It was a perfectly harmonious fit, although it was clearly Chatham’s show. His leadership was palpable and in many ways the performance felt like a bunch of hipster Brooklynites jamming in their cool vest-wearing dad’s basement. Songs were given pithy names like “Virgin Screwdriver” and “Was it Sexual?” (it wasn’t), and were generally so complex and intellectual in construction, including a piece based on Pythagoras, that the audience was kept at arm’s length. You were invited to listen and admire, but not really know.
While the first half of the performance was interesting, the second half was ultimately more successful, finally revealing some measure of emotion, some crack in the wall. “G3” showed off the best of Oneida and Chatham. It was a pure rock song; the sort you imagine listening to while driving down a winding California highway, the sort that lets all the instruments from the bass to the multiple guitars shine. Whatever youthful embarrassment the members of Oneida had for displaying genuine emotion (except Kid Millions whose drumming and facial expressions were appropriately ecstatic), were utterly lost on Chatham as he wailed on guitar, frequently jumping up and down, even falling to his knees in joy. It was exciting to watch, and it gave the piece a true measure of vitality.
Interestingly enough, the best piece of the evening was the last, titled “Bad Habit”. From Bobby Matador’s tortured singing to the heavy pall of Snaps London’s synthesizer effects the piece was rife with the anguish of knowing what you’re doing is wrong and not being able to change it. If Thomas Moore was looking for something to listen to while practicing a bit of self-flagellation, this would have been a good pick. The piece ended with a sweetly sad, repetitive guitar melody from Hanoi Jane while Showtime and Chatham’s heavy reverberation and feedback drew it down into the darkness. It was a bad habit that couldn’t, or wouldn’t, be kicked and the rawness of that realization was more moving than anything that had come before.