Melting Faces with Los Llamarada
At first it was unknown if the band from Mexico would even show up as they had two options after their show in Philadelphia – either head to Columbus on a Sunday night to face who knows how many people, or simply finish the tour and head South with a belly full of whatever pickled gizzards and cave-aged gouda Woodbe chucked down their gullets, and probably a van full of obscure vinyl to start spinning once they got home. Around 10 it was looking pretty grim. Not a soul in the bar and no sign of Sagan and the crew. Matt Horseshit was getting prickly, worried, and unsure of himself as always. They’d show – it was in the cards.
To suffice Fey Gods stood to obliterate. Nick and Lula must be swimming in material, as now, with the FG they have created another outlet from which to slobber and moan, growl and throb. Fey Gods is more the electronic grinding/gruesome doppelganger, Suicide and Monster Truck Five colliding in the dive bar atmosphere. Soiuxsie minus the Banshees wailing along with the rhythmic choogle of motorik grunge. Since I’ve been wearing the grooves thin on the Grave Blankets “Our Love is Real” it’s getting hard to remember just exactly the difference, I love ‘em both. Fey Gods are more seductively brutal and hypnotic in tenacity. Be on the lookout for more tapes n’ shows – they’ve got a double-edged front from which to work with, and I’m tempted to say it will be the Fey Gods that end up with the long-player first.
If I were to say that the Psychedelic Horseshit set was one of their best, with Sugar Bear on bass, then I’d be one-upping my other claims as of late. Well it was, and as the new songs get polished and solid than it can only get better. Word is they’re looking to add players – and I like my bro’s comparison to the Rolling Thunder-type configuration they were working with over the summer. So here’s hoping to full-band chaos soon.
Finally – the Los Llamarada did arrive, tired and confused, happy to be headed back home with one last celebration/exorcism to perform. I’m not sure if they’ve yet become accustomed to demanding their pittance of beer from bars yet (they did claim to learn trade secrets from Hank IV) cause they asked very kindly if I’d get them some, and I happily obliged because I knew what they would give in return was worth my time and money. After a few “jazz cigarettes” courtesy of the freak LL fan who followed them to three shows using only the Megabus and a folding bike (Indianapolis natives are strange humans) I was well-primed for face melting and brain re-circuitry. I suppose you could now call their stage show “seasoned” as they’ve endured life on the road, with a set night after night. They blasted right into something somewhat familiar from their latest Take the Sky. Sagan was gurgling numbers, reaching within himself to and refracted that imploding energy towards the sizable crowd (for a Sunday). Estrella was pounding on keys with her head buried in her arms, never for a second looking at the notes or the people surrounding her. Mr. Noise knew repetition was paramount, his blunt chaotic repetition held it all together. At that end there was a lengthy “song” which was equivalent to Johnny tuning, long and drowning, but it worked – via feedback scratching at the walls. When I say face melting, that’s only figuratively, but that’s kind of what it feels like. Straining to understand and eventually giving way to the primitive form is a conflict that makes for confusion, sweat, briefs moments of unconsciousness and lack of oxygen. The room shrinks around them. Really, it does.
They’ve certainly got hours of practice under their belts, because once they switched – Sagan to synths, Estrella to the fore – things got incredibly punk. Actual anthems (like “Nobody Calls Me”) had semblance to choruses, albeit with Sagan convulsing in little patterns over his console. They were nothing short of liberating. Good thing Columbus put on notice, if only for this night, from what might just be the greatest live band on the planet right now. Tapes will be made once Horseshit and I get our audios together. Vinyl was selling like wildfires, so one of your friends can probably clue you in on this before it’s too late. Will it ever be too late? Hope not.
For now, here is a live performance they did for Brian Turner's show on WFMU. It's great.