Black Moth Super Rainbow and School Of Seven Bells at Mohawk
Tripping the LED fantastic
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According to the video blogger whose projected rant preceded the show, Black Moth Super Rainbow makes "music for printers." Declaring it one of the top five worst bands in underground music—a group that makes "synthesizer noise that only douchebags could like”—the anonymous YouTube critic was followed by a video response starring Eric Wareheim of Tim And Eric Awesome Show, Great Job! fame. Comparing Black Moth Super Rainbow to The Cure and making fun of the group's name, Eric reassured the gathered fans that liking Black Moth didn't make them douchebags (or even “d-bags”); it just made them goths. So putting it all together: Before the first note was even played, Black Moth Super Rainbow had introduced itself as a synthesizer noise ensemble that makes goth music for printers—which, strange as it sounds, is actually a fairly accurate appraisal.
If Black Moth Super Rainbow makes music for eyeliner-wearing HP LaserJets, then School Of Seven Bells does shoegaze for screensavers. The group stood in a near-symmetrical pattern, identical twins (and keyboardist and guitarist, respectively) Claudia and Alejandra Deheza each taking a side of the stage, while ex-Secret Machines’ Benjamin Curtis stood back and center, a fractalized Rorschach test directly behind his head. Twins always tread the line between cute and creepy, and the mirror-imaged Deheza girls' droning croon leans toward the latter, casting an eerie pall over the performance. Distilling the warped, languorous guitars of My Bloody Valentine into cascading waves of somnolent drift, School Of Seven Bells created a layered ambience of listless unease perfectly complemented by the subtle machinations of its new-age visual effects.
Soon after School left the stage and its neo-shoegaze (screen gaze?) sound faded into nothing, the projection screen was lit up once more. Confused murmurs passed through the crowd during the slideshow of makeup-wearing Insane Clown Posse fans (commonly known as Juggalos), followed by the aforementioned amateur critic, who was bummed to have to sit through Black Moth Super Rainbow when he went to see MGMT. Black Moth frontman Tobacco has described the group’s live show as "a bunch of people who are still uncomfortable on a stage with hopefully some decent visual distractions," and judging by the way the band slunk onto the stage, ducking out of the projector's beam, that’s probably more than just mock humility. While the music swayed between technological night terrors and psychedelic daydreams, the visuals dug through the seedy underbelly of viral video: Melting bodies, roadkill, puppets, and other homemade horror films loomed large on the screen, most likely freaking out anyone who had indulged in something stronger than the pot smoke wafting through the air.
During Black Moth's second song, the video lagged on time-lapse footage of an apple rotting, slowly collapsing in on itself as it was overtaken by fuzzy white mold and dark, gaping holes. This singular image aptly sums up Black Moth Super Rainbow's style, sound, and aesthetic: The apple could represent The Beatles' psychedelic period, when Paul was a Walrus and rocking horse people ate marshmallow pies. Black Moth Super Rainbow have taken that silliness and hallucinogenic nonsense and let it rot. It’s the sound of something organic and human overtaken by digital decay, human vocal chords replaced with soulless electronic effects, and old-fashioned guitar strums switched out for sinister Doctor Who synth lines. The trippy, fermented residue left over—though strangely appealing—may be alien and unfamiliar to the average human listener (and especially to anyone eager to hear “Time To Pretend”), but it probably sounds like perfectly crafted pop music to a printer.
