WOLF EYES & ANTHONY BRAXTON - Black Vomit

May 21, 2005, Festival International de Musique Actuelle in Victoriaville. A pleasant evening organized by Thurston Moore with the following line-up: Hair Police, Double Leopards, Dead Machines, No-Neck Blues Band and indeed Wolf Eyes. And Anthony?

Let's take a step back. The story goes that, during a trip to Sweden, Braxton caught a Wolf Eyes show and, left thunderstruck by the trio, tried to snap up as much stuff as he could at the merch table. He didn't even know they were American, so much so that he was mulling over the idea of moving to Sweden for a while, "even as a cook if I had to", just to be able to follow them more closely. Once he discovered the band's actual origins (Michigan), a collaboration seemed just around the corner — all that remained was to pin down the time and place.

At this point Mr. "parsley" Moore stuck his nose in, suggesting the two join forces right there on stage at the aforementioned Victoriaville festival. And so it was. Moore walks on stage, makes the introductions, and to the audience's astonishment the three-plus-one lineup starts playing.

"The Mangler" is a long, largely improvised piece; it opens hushed, almost minimalist, with Wolf Eyes laying down an electronic carpet over which the saxophonist punctuates brief phrases. It's as if two wary beasts were sizing each other up before the lunge. A war of nerves in which neither wants to make the first move, and it takes a while for the set to really kick in. The sound starts to take shape, as if whatever reverence there was toward the jazzman has given way to the urge for confrontation; the result is that tension builds minute by minute, now with a piercing lash of sax, now with a dull metallic rumble. It all happens gradually, without sudden breaks, until, after a brief pause (which could simply be called the classic calm before the storm), the sounds come roaring back, and it's mainly Braxton who points the way forward, a path the three of them follow with sheer joy. The sax rises above everything, soaring into piercingly high notes while, miles below, the noise trio spawns brutal electrostatic discharges, until Braxton is suddenly left alone. A beat starts, then another follows, the rhythm of a blacksmith striking an anvil kicks in. "This song's called Stabbed In The Face, men".

In all their years and all their albums, Wolf Eyes probably never reached such intensity. Braxton himself gets sucked into this vortex and rightly cedes the field to the group after gradually rousing it from its initial torpor. And just as suddenly as it began, "Stabbed In The Face" closes to the applause of a stunned audience.

Olson: "I think we got time for one more…"

Young: "You guys wanna hear Leper War or Black Vomit?"

Olson: "What song's better?"

Olson: "Anthony, what do you wanna hear man, Leper War or Black Vomit?"

Braxton: "Black Vomit!"

Olson: "Yeeeeaah! Let's see what you got!"

In truth it's a kind of medley between a catastrophic version of "Rationed Rot" from the new Human Animal and a "Black Vomit" that closes out the evening in a collapse of feedback. Applause, thank-yous, introductions, and wishes for a good weekend.

What strikes you is the sense of fun that surrounded the whole event. A fun that comes through in the opening Star Wars jokes, in asking the crowd which song they'd prefer, or in sharing a laugh at Braxton's answer. That was the greatness of this performance: it wasn't just a mass of blind musical violence or a public venting of one's own malaise, it was a concert that left the audience with a smile stamped on their faces and the awareness of having witnessed something unique.

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21/10/2006