The Music Tapes, Nana Grizol, and Brian Dewan
This television told us to freak the fuck out
The Music Tapes' Static The Television: The friendly, singing cousin of the TV from "Poltergeist"
The Music Tapes’ Julian Koster spends a lot of time singing about the weather, so he knows how meteorological phenomena like to be treated. “I want to thank that hurricane that passed through for not obliterating us,” he said halfway through the band’s Tuesday night set at the Mohawk, referring to the brief but severe thunderstorm that forced the show inside and plunged the club into darkness for a few pre-show minutes. (Koster is also well-versed in the art of comical overstatement.)
His expression of gratitude was par for the course for a show that pretty much floated onto Red River on a cloud of whimsy. In the grand tradition of the Elephant Six Recording Company—that amorphous Athens-based art mob that places The Music Tapes and openers Nana Grizol and Brian Dewan in the company of Neutral Milk Hotel, Of Montreal, and The Olivia Tremor Control—it was an evening that constantly played with the fine line between fascinating and annoying. Kind of like when the opening act is a televangelist-looking dude who covers everything from 18th-century anti-tobacco songs to anti-religion Dead Kennedys tracks (fascinating) while consistently mashing the wrong keys on his autoharp (annoying).
Fortunately for Dewan, his instrumental shortcomings played perfectly into his demented kiddie show host vibe. Sweating it out in a bad suit, he ran his hands through his poofy gray hair after each song before giving a CliffsNotes summary of the next (“Here’s a song about pagan rituals celebrated around the holidays. It’s called ‘Mistletoe.'”). Dewan's performance elicited several queries of, “Who’s the old guy?” from the crowd. The common answer: “That’s Brian Dewan. He did the illustrations for In The Aeroplane Over The Sea.” (At this point, that record is so huge that even the guy who did the liner notes can’t escape its shadow.)
Dewan was afforded the opportunity to demonstrate that his visual skills extend beyond flying Victrolas via his satirical filmstrip Civic Pride. The combination of surreal watercolors and Look Around You-style misinformation was part of the show's overall trend toward multimedia, echoed by Koster’s electronic duet partner, Static The Television. Making his presence known during a rousing version of “The Television Tells Us,” Static proved more impressive in person than Koster’s other famous invention, a towering metronome which [spoiler alert!] does a pretty shitty job of keeping time.
Not that keeping a steady tempo is of much concern to The Music Tapes. On record, Koster has a tendency to meander; live, he has a tendency to meander at extreme decibel levels. Joyful flailing has always been part of the appeal of catching an E6 act in concert (Watch this version of “The King Of Carrot Flowers, Parts 2 And 3,” which might actually make you feel better about missing the chance to see Neutral Milk Hotel), but the best songs of the set were delivered sans amplification, with Koster standing in the middle of the crowd. One unforgettable highlight involved no music at all, only a game that sprung from Koster's cotton-candy mind. Here’s the simple list of instructions, in case you want to play along at home:
- Write a cherished memory on slip of paper.
- Collect said memories in a hollowed out Nativity scene character (preferably a camel).
- Transfer memories from camel to cooking pot.
- Light memories on fire. (If soaking a matchbook in vodka fails to yield the desired results, follow Koster's lead in yelling, "It's supposed to be an inferno!")
- Form a single-file line, jump over fire. Repeat.
There you go, West Campus Arsonist(s). When you get caught, just tell the authorities you were playing a game taught to you by a man who talks to TVs and plays the drums with a dodgeball.
Somewhere in the middle of all these summer camp shenanigans, Nana Grizol played a rather straightforward set of shaggy pop songs. Despite frontman Theo Hilton’s best efforts—like introducing “Motion In The Ocean” by exclaiming “This song’s about clams!”—being sandwiched between Dewan and The Music Tapes didn't do Grizol any favors. (It was nowhere close to the vital surge they brought to last year’s Orange Twin Records SXSW showcase.) Perhaps Hilton should follow Koster's lead, stop talking about clams, and start communing with the clouds.
