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3/23/09

The Nolan Factor - Monday March 23nd 2009

Jeff Nolan - one of MCB's longest contributors will be dropping a few posts from time to time about music / art / state of the economy / women / food / car repair / laundry tips
"The Nolan Factor"

FRIDAY
MARCH 20
Luna Lounge

Charlie Slick was a few songs into his set when I arrived at Luna. By this time he was shirtless and covered in glitter, marching back and forth on the stage microphone in hand. Epileptic LED light bars surrounded the rear portion of the stage making Charlie look like a fully decked out Christmas tree. Mr. Slick was performing without his longtime light box operator Andy Grabrysiak, and was without his trademark white light boxes entirely, opting instead for the schizophrenic electronic strobes. He began to throw glitter onto the audience and moved onto the dance floor to perform in middle of the crowd. An anorexic girl with highlights and skin-tight zebra pants wobbled back and forth with her boyfriend in a striped shirt.

The highlight of his performance came when Charlie began to swing his synthesizer over his head and played a song with his synthesizer held in the air over the dance floor. At the end of his set Charlie invited the crowd onto the stage with him and then slowed the beat down until everyone was seated on the stage, covered in sparkly silver glitter out of a handheld shaker that was finally hurled against the ceiling and ricocheted across Luna.
Someone within earshot said "Now thats a pile of douchebags!"
Looking around we discovered who it was
Charlie's old roommate was sitting next to us
and obviously never got his deposit back or something

The headline band of the evening was a band called the Plastic Shapes. They were more or less a cookie-cutter electronic band with a guitarist who played a flying-V guitar. The guitarist was very enthusiastic, striking poses like Eddie Van Halen and tapping the frets at every possible moment. The drums were a unique mix of electronic beats and live-drumming that interlaced seamlessly. Monotone dance beats and hair metal guitar riffs populated all songs.

The best show of the evening for us was the Champions of Breakfast,
although I arrived fashionably late, sadly after they played missing the show

SATURDAY
MARCH 21
Small's Bar


Mild Cartoon Violence began the evening with a set of early nineties-influenced ska music, at one point even covering a Sublime song. A tight, clean guitar chirped over thick, melodic bass-lines. Danceable drum beats and cheery vocals filled out the rest of their sound. I quite enjoyed their mushroom cuts and extreme enthusiasm to be playing, it didn't matter that at this point most of the attendees were still milling around the bar and pretending there was no band on stage.

Near the end of the set I wandered into the bathroom to find Bryan Metro of Jesus Chainsaw Massacre painting his face blue in the mirror, then his legs, then his torso, and finally his arms.
I watched him do this while he babbled about a Flatliners spin-off in which he was cast to play the assistant, but was told his teeth were too jacked.

Charging onto the stage after the soundcheck was the shirtless blue man I had encountered in the restroom. “I work for the government, and I left my Hustler magazine in the particle room- look at me now!” he declared before launching into a spectacle of a show in which he levitated a cinder block with his mind, lip-synched to an i-Pod, put a bucket over his head, and demonstrated his ability to do four push-ups in a row.

Dirty lo-fi guitar and beats generated by a 20 year-old Casio keyboard were the backing to Bryan Metro's karaoke voice and self-aggrandizing testimonials. By the end of the set he was dodging glow sticks and polyethylene Hawaiian lays thrown by the audience. He then danced off the stage, soon to be followed by his one-man band, who first smashed his empty beer bottle on the floor, threw his guitar against his amp to ringing feedback, and yelled thanks threw a broken microphone. This is rock and roll.

Almost Free followed, the show was organized by them to promote the release of their new album, Modern Mistakes. I had encountered the singer's father earlier in the night “He's a great boy!” was his claim. The band's sound was something between the Ventures' surf rock melodies and Sonic Youth's noisy droning non-chords. Added to this were ghostly vocals that were nearly empty of any discernible emotion. The show was powerful and provocative, standing on the edge of being dark and brooding, yet it couldn't really be described as such.


SUNDAY
MARCH 22
Crofoot Ballroom


I'm lost as I wonder where to start with this show... The first thing I saw when I entered the Crofoot and was trying to figure out why I wasn't on the list was a girl collapse on the floor next to the elevator. She was clearly on something, but what exactly I could not determine with any accuracy, and it seemed as though the paramedics who picked her up off the street were just as puzzled. Next, an asian kid dressed all in black threw up next to the guy taking tickets.
This was before I even made it onto the floor.
Surely we missed at least 5 other notable moments while I was stuck at the door until they figured out the list problem and in we went without further delay.

Next I was pleased to discover that Ratatat was kind enough to speak to just three members of the press, pre-approved by their tour manager, myself not included.
Photographers were limited to pictures without flashes, for the first three songs only.

Once they took the stage I was pleased to see that there was a huge video and elaborate flashing light show that accompanied their set. An array of drums, keyboards, blinding LEDs, lasers, and smoke machines lined all sides of the stage.
The bass was more powerful than the voice of God,
the guitar had a perfect tone that was neither distorted nor clean, and the beats were all precisely timed. The bassist occasionally pretended to play electronic drums that didn't made a sound,
and occasionally spit on the crowd.

The video that they projected was at times curiously similar to (nearly a direct copy of) Dan Deacon and Jimmy Joe-Roche's Ultimate Reality, a remix of Arnold Schwarzenegger films in psychedelic rainbow technicolor, designs by The Sweet Smelling Surfaces,
and the screensavers on my parent's old PC.

The music was tight and identical to the sound on the albums, which is to be expected when the music is prerecorded. The crowd showed tremendous enthusiasm and did not stop moving up and down, even when the music stopped. People were carried on the hands of the audience all over the floor and deposited into the waiting arms of the bouncers on stage all night. The aftermath of the show was impressive: a dance floor littered with smashed cups, articles of clothing, and aluminum confetti,
and a bathroom dripping in all bodily fluids imaginable.

"THE NOLAN FACTOR IS DETROIT"
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