The First Unitarian Church Chapel is a cozy room attached to a larger church that seats only 50 people and provides a profound space for live music, standing in direct contrast to the idle chatter and beer sweat that fills most other venues. The dark walls are brightened by the flourishes of gold-leaf stenciling that wind around the grooves of the intricate woodwork, creating a soothing glow when the lights dim. Given the mood emanating from the space and the robust sounds that Mountains captured on their excellent 2009 album, Choral (TMT Review), I was expecting nothing less than a religious experience.
Moral Crayfish, first in the lineup, is the recording project of Philadelphia’s Dan Cohoon, whose haunted guitar-drones were, on this night, accompanied by the free-percussion of Scott Verrastro, with whom he had never previously played. Cohoon built up a colossal wall of doom but allowed wraithlike shimmers to sneak through and softly cry. Verrastro’s bow-to-cymbal technique, gong-hits and bell-clangs provided a Silvester Anfang-esque, funeral-procession vibe that pushed the screeching guitar spirits out through the cracks around the edges of the windows and ceilings of the chapel.
Recent Philadelphia transplant Chris Forsyth stepped out from the secret door that connects to the altar and performed two pieces on electric guitar. The first piece exploited a repetitive phrase to induce a hypnotic effect, luring the audience into a labyrinth where high-notes rung out like seductive bells. For the second piece Forsyth built up a spiraling loop of dissonant notes that carefully taunted its own edge, always just a slip away from falling further into itself. Once the trance was established, long and calm string bends began to float above the swirl, instantly bringing to mind Peter Green’s guitar-line on Fleetwood Mac’s “Albatross.” Eventually, though, Forsyth began ripping more furiously, unleashing interstellar runs up and down the neck, bringing his set to an intense conclusion.
If Koen Holtkamp and Brendon Anderegg of Mountains continue their collection of pedals and effects-gear, which is already a small city unto itself, then in the next few years they may be able to give Kevin Shields a run for his money. They began their long piece with effects-enhanced acoustic guitar loops to secure the foundation for their atmospheric wanderings. Once a warm layer of tones pulsed refreshingly through the room, they added various percussive loops to the soundscape. One of the most interesting aspects of Mountains’ music is their childlike playfulness and curiosity in regards to the possibilities of sound. This adventuresome spirit was exemplified by Holtkamp when he used an ordinary kitchen utensil, a whisk, for its percussive potentiality, thus challenging its established mode. Meanwhile, Anderegg played a Monkey Drum, the instrument that entered the Western mind from its appearance in Karate Kid II, providing a further element of play to the ever-expanding layers of sound.
Despite the addition of more and more instruments to the loop, a great openness remained, and when the dueling EBows were introduced they floated delicately within this space. The synth-fuzz-waves create sun-shimmers reminiscent of those that might happily awake one from a summer siesta, but the mood intensifies when the bass produces a more brooding, existential mood, calling to mind the heavy-sounds of a Michael Mann film. As the music gradually faded away, a humming was left lingering in the chapel that was either peaceful waves breaking against a shore or a terrifying wind blowing through nighttime trees. Mountains generously left this ambiguity intact for the audience to linger within.
[Photo: Jenna Wilbur]