Russian Circles at Cactus Club
On one hand, it was almost ridiculous having Russian Circles play the Cactus Club Friday night—the room was jam-packed an hour before sound check, presumably due to glowing reviews of the band’s latest (and best) album, Empros, and a reputation for impressive live shows. On the other hand, the show was probably booked well in advance of the unprecedented publicity, and Russian Circles have played exclusively at Cactus when they’ve visited Milwaukee for several years now. In celebration of the venue’s 15th anniversary, this was another potential “I-was-there” moment for folks lucky enough to arrive early.
Chicago’s Anatomy Of Habit benefitted greatly from the buzz. The band’s opening set was probably not what the packed house came to see, but credit frontman Mark Solotroff for carrying the performance. He made a strong claim to being the Michael Stipe of metal: well dressed, shaved head, affectations of obliviousness, lyrics that make no fucking sense, somehow utterly captivating. (Timely!) The rest of the band was only occasionally on the same page, playing a marginally intriguing blend of gothic doom-lite and post-hardcore that rested purely on Solotroff’s intangible charisma, but wasn’t odious enough to dismiss.
The room went dark well in advance of Young Widows taking the stage for their second Cactus show with Russian Circles. Lit only by the gleaming yellow globes embedded in their Emperor amps and a sinister red emanating from the vicinity of the monitors, these guys dispelled any air of pretension. They began as an offshoot of mathcore pioneers Breather Resist, and they’ve gotten more mellow with each successive album, but the consistent driving force has been Evan Patterson’s uncommonly expressive guitar playing—the stuff that heroes are made of. Friday’s performance was a sublime collision of Helmet and Sonic Youth, consisting mostly of material from this year’s In And Out Of Youth And Lightness.
For a band that seemed destined for obscurity, Russian Circles have admirably stuck to their guns. Following a deservedly well-received debut, 2006’s Enter, they seemed destined for hey-we-opened-for-Tool status until this year’s evident reawakening, which wasn’t so much a departure as a return to their roots. They were always the poster boys for Mogwai-gone-metal, but now they’ve evolved into something uniquely vibrant in a market that got stuck in the paradigm they helped to create. Russian Circles crafted delicate jams that wouldn’t be out of place at a Phish show, and merged them with evil-thrash riffs, all seamless and benevolent even at their most ferocious. Lots of bands can pull off the melodic/violent dynamic with aplomb, but very few can extend an overwhelming sense of positivity within that dichotomy like Russian Circles. Until this year, they seemed destined to be an instrumental Isis wannabe, but without really changing their overall direction, they suddenly wrote better songs (especially “Mlàdek” and “309”, which killed at this show) than on the previous two albums. Chances are they’re now too big to ever play Cactus again; be thankful if you saw ’em there.
