For the fourth year in a row, the electric guitar quartet Dither held their annual Extravaganza on Saturday night, featuring an extended evening of music from their friends in new and experimental music. With over six hours of music for only $8—not to mention $3 beers from Brooklyn Brewery—it's about as good a bang for your new-music buck as you're going to find.
Relocated this year to a refurbished loft on the Gowanus Canal, it looked at first glance like one of those speakeasy-type venues on Kent Street in Williamsburg. But, as I wandered the building's labyrinthine halls in search of the space, it wasn't the scream of electric guitars that guided my way, but the spiky jabs of violins, viola, and cello. When I finally arrived at the entrance, I could see it was the white-hot JACK Quartet digging into John Zorn's shrieking, haunting Necronomicon (2003). Seeing JACK in jeans, playing a packed, white-timbered space would have been worth the price of admission all by itself.
But that was just for starters. Next were longtime experimental collaborators Ikue Mori and Zeena Parkins performing as Phantom Orchard, with Parkins playing her aggressively loud amplified harp over Mori's laptop electronics. Dan Friel (ex-Parts & Labor) followed with his homemade contraption of keyboard, thriftstore pedals, and Christmas lights, creating an video-game-like melodic swarm that fell somewhere between Dan Deacon and Fuck Buttons. Dither's James Moore, Taylor Levine, and Gyan Riley then played John Zorn's game piece Hockey without their fourth member, Josh Lopes, whose wife had just had their first child.
The real highlight of the night was Elliott Sharp's Ile Tigre Lily (2013) for large ensemble, including guitars, strings, percussion, clarinet, and trombone. Dedicated to both Terry Riley and György Ligeti, the piece—which kicked off just after midnight—unfolded algorithmically, much like Riley's In C, with Sharp signalling the changes as he played guitar in the center. The crowd had thinned out slightly at that point, but those still in the room knew they were witnessing something truly memorable: one could sense the through-line to the '60s happenings put on by Riley and LaMonte Young—which took place not in concert halls, but in downtown galleries and lofts.
Had I arrived earlier, I also would have heard jazz guitarist Mary Halvorson with Weasel Walter and Peter Evans, Gyan Riley and Timba Harris' Probosci, and something called Vomit Fist. Even after Sharp's epic piece, I could hear the squeal of bagpipes as I walked down the hall, courtesy of Matthew Welch's Blarvuster. I would have liked to hear more, but even for me, it was too much of a good thing. A very good thing.
More pics on the photo page.