Messthetics

Bologna, 23/05/2019

by Ossydiana Speri

Come on, let's not beat around the bush: if we're here tonight, it's certainly not for poor Anthony Pirog's funambulistic noodling. A band like Fugazi, given the times we live in, is something we miss like methadone in the middle of cold-turkey withdrawal: a few angry slogans to shout, a noble example to look up to, or simply a bit of energy to shock us back to life. Whoever has made it to the Locomotiv on this sluggish late-spring evening is stirred by a similar need: fairly misplaced, given that we're about to watch an instrumental show.

With all the indulgence in the world, and despite the blackmail-worthy Dischord stamp, last year's record only half won me over. The blame once again falls on poor Pirog: it takes some doing to hamstring one of the most lethal rhythm sections on the planet, but that guitar is so intrusive you wish there were a dedicated fader to bury it in the mix. Still, I trust the stage can do a project built on interplay some good, and I can only appreciate the fact that the Fugazi policy has been kept intact: a flat 10-euro ticket. As for me, I try to do my part: not a drop of alcohol all evening.

The DJ set built around June Of 44 (also on tour these days) and the iconic ring of Canty's heavily mic'd drums warm the heart, a little less so the solo opening set from Modena's Giack Bazz, who, in a venue still half-empty, introduces himself as "uno che suona canzoni tristi": we second that description. Half an hour later the stage is ready to welcome the trio: the setlists scrawled in marker scream the Nineties, the little bottles next to each rig strictly contain water. Lally's understated Precision bass stands in contrast to Pirog's pompous caravan of gear (a kind of flabby J Mascis in flannel and a baseball cap): about fifteen pedals and a hideous gold Jazzmaster modified with Di Marzio pickups.

"Buonasera Bologna, come state?", Joe greets us in his still-impeccable Italian, before settling back into his native tongue: "We're the Messthetics and have some songs to play". The first one, the unreleased "Boredoms", is such a violent assault that it blows out my eardrums, forcing me to retreat from the front row I'd earned myself. The prediction is happily confirmed: the mannered quality of the studio recording is swept away by the charge that only a live show can deliver. Sure, Pirog draws more than a few curses with his lingering in suffocating, Cline-esque effects pedalry, proving himself better suited to accompaniment than to solos, but the power of the Lally-Canty firm lands a considerable sonic punch. I'm now certain this won't be the conservatory recital I feared, and for now that's enough for me.

The track cuts off abruptly, immediately replaced by the hypnotic bass of "Mythomania", a jazzcore piece that turns by equal measure desert-like, metallic or Indian-tinged before breaking apart into deafening noise when Canty hits the bell of his cymbal. The glassy noise of "The Assignment" inaugurates the practice of interludes between songs and gives further push to a supersonic "Quantum Path", featuring an impressive performance from that killer rhythm machine that is Canty. "Your Own World" atomizes that adrenaline into a psychedelic cloud marked by the rattle of a crotale, the smoke of a rocket that only truly lifts off with the following "Inner Ocean", perhaps the most lyrical number in the set, a rainy night reflected in a forlorn bass arpeggio, with Pirog rising to the occasion as a liquid Bill Frisell 2.0.

From post-rock we regress to the post-hardcore of "Wipers", with kick-drum work that shifts the air like a turbine and a guitar that, yes, drills just as hard as Greg Sage's. Few Byrne-like traces, on the other hand, in the Eastern-tinged "Talking Heads", preceded by the brief and equally atmospheric "Cloop" but soon pulverized by the drumming grater of "Sixes" and the lopsided blues of "Sevens", with its abrasive froth of tremolo.

The oceanic slowcore of "Ambient I" returns to calm things down, hurling heavy doom boulders that crumble into sharp cobblestones in the outburst of "Serpent Tongue", played with such fury that Canty loses a drumstick. And it's he who thanks us for our warm presence, with the humility that has always set him apart ("We really appreciate, we've come a long way…"), rewarding us with the plush stoner of "Radiation Fog" merged into a hugely dynamic multi-part "Crowds And Power" (an amphetamine spiral à la Tool, a western-style duel, a heart-stopping slowdown). He makes as if to leave but the other two stay behind tuning up. "So we're going to play one more?", he feigns surprise, and the non-encore is a real gift: the opening of "Funk" is so Fugazi-like that a few overexcited fans think they recognize some obscure deep cut from the mother band, then the whole machine collapses into a swing that, in turn, breaks apart into a loose-limbed improvisation sent tumbling down a mountainside. It takes us a while to realize we're listening to a medley, with two very welcome surprises tucked inside: "Black Satin" by Miles Davis and "School Work" by Ornette Coleman, a heartfelt tribute both to their own influences and to their own creativity and skill.

High volume, great sound, loads of energy: what more could you ask of a rock show, even one played with such jazz-musician precision? Something tells me we can forget about the long-hoped-for reunion, but in the end it's no great loss: as a mute substitute, these Messthetics are well worth manning the barricades for.

Livorno, 25/05/2019

by Maria Teresa Soldani

Second night to bid farewell to the winter season at Livorno's Cage. After last night's wonderful June of 44 show, a second high-quality concert arrives. No opening act this time, we go straight to the main course with the power trio made up of Brendan Canty (Rites of Spring, Fugazi, Girls Against Boys, Lois), Joe Lally (Fugazi, Decahedron, Ataxia) and Anthony Pirog (New Electric, Skysaw).

We kick off straight away with "Mythomania", the opening track from the debut album by The Messthetics (2018, Dischord Records), while the noise of "The Assignment" paves the way for the psychedelia and guitar gluttony of "Quantum Path", with a granite-solid rhythm section keeping the track anchored to the ground and stopping it from drifting off into metal territory. Particularly gripping is the ecstatic one-two of "Your Own World"/"The Inner Ocean", which carries us with great finesse from the intense slowcore era of bands like Karate to the blazing seventies-style solos of Funkadelic. Next comes the indie/emocore summa of "Wipers", which likewise looks back to those prolific Nineties. The show is thus defined by a wide dynamic range, slowing down ("Radiation Fog") and speeding up ("Serpent Tongue", "Crowds And Powder"), blending the most disparate influences (Who, Primus, Marc Ribot) and the genres they most often draw on (post-hardcore, jazz, post-punk, prog), constantly opening up, with the natural ease of a breathing diaphragm, to spaces of improvisation and compositional development between songs, as if the whole show were itself a single composition.

The Messthetics' rhythm section carries forward a thoroughly "Fugazi-esque" principle: do everything you can, and even what you think can't be done, with nothing but your instrument and amplification. The geometries of the Lally/Canty pairing welcome what might seem like an almost exotic element within their tight, well-honed balance: Pirog's guitar and loops. His sounds and phrases, almost excessive, take center stage: they overflow, reverberate, multiply, go to extremes, race ahead and stretch the music out, yet remain fully integrated into the groove and harmonic structures at every turn. Under the pleasing sign of King Crimson (both Robert Fripp's and Andrew Belew's), his guitar lines fuse harmony and melody, blending seamlessly with Lally and Canty's rhythmic figures and touch. The result is a polymorphic rock sound, shot through with feverish jazz, acid psychedelia and a laminated noise. The project is so free in its live form - working better on stage than on record, where it sounds more "tamed" - that, especially on tracks like "Quantum Path", it brings to mind the same crossover logic behind ensembles like Mike Patton's Mr. Bungle or Heavy Blanket, the double-drummer noise project led by Amherst guitarist J Mascis.

There's naturally room to pay fitting tribute to the jazz they love most, such as the cover - also featured on the album - of guitarist Sonny Sharrock's "Once Upon A Time" from "Ask The Ages" (1991, Island Records, co-produced with Bill Laswell and featuring Elvin Jones on drums), or the nod to the early Seventies with Miles Davis's "Black Satin" from "On The Corner" (1972, Columbia/CBS, produced by Teo Macero) and Ornette Coleman's "School Work", an outtake from the "Science Fiction" recording sessions (1972, Columbia/CBS) released on "Broken Shadows" (1982, Columbia/CBS).

The plural spirit that owes so much to the ethos of Washington DC's post/emo/hardcore scene means that the individual voices within The Messthetics come together into a compact yet multifaceted musical whole, played divinely, bursting with joy and passion for performance beyond chronology or age. This show has everything you could love about music and about experiencing it live, and, true to the best tradition of the scenes these musicians come from, it leaves you dying to run off and jam in a rehearsal room.

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