"Do we sound at all jet-lagged?" As if. This is the second time I've seen Caribou, formerly known as Manitoba *, and on both occasions they've been nothing less than a blitzkrieg. The crowd cheers, wailing down Dan Snaith's enquiry and offering support. "OK, we'll try to play twice as hard".
Just behind me is Ted. T'was on my first exposure to these psychedelic droogniks that I was fortunate enough to aquaint this fine gent and his rampant enthusiasm for Caribou. Ted's a great guy to have on board. His no holds barred positive energy lights up the place. Fortunately we're near the front this time. Caribou creep onto stage, and unlike last time we're not going to be caught out at the bar, crannig like uncompassed goons. And just as the audience reverts to a low chatter, while the group appear to be setting up - BAMM - the whole room turns around as Dan Snaith and an auxilliary drummer who have snuck behind behind a kit each, bludgeon a four bar warm up burst. No one looks away from here on.
For those unfamiliar with the sound of Caribou, I'd like to sit you all down and say they're psychedelic, except, for the unfortunate tendancy that when I think of the term 'psychedlic' my mind tends to throw up connotations like 'flowery' and 'rather pansyish'. Egad man, these guys play so hard they're breaking me up like cheap bags of popcorn. There's a low bass thunder, that could be some sort of synth module somewhere out of my sight, or some kind of unintended bass drum vibration that follows through, earthquaking the floorboards, in a style one can only describe as Chemical Brothers-esque. There's an adventurous approach to the sounds they create, and given some of their new material, they're expanding their menu. Hello Hammerheads nods towards a folky Wickerman direction, both recorder and melodica get a dust down; in fact I get the impression Snaith and co will try to get a sound out of just about anything, with a rampant mania that's so apparent on-stage. I've never seen anyone play any instrument the way Snaith plays drums. Not only does he pile in forkliftfuls of energy; such an agonised expression he unleashes. I've seen people listen to Craig David records with less of a grimmace. Fortunatley he leaves any vocal work to sections when he's playing other instruments. As Stephen Morris (Joy Division / New Order) acutely observed, singing drummers look like they have an affliction. They could have gotten away with it last time they were here - bestrident in bear masks of the illest calibre. But that's just one of the reasons tonight's gig seems more like a personal affair. There is no 'shock of the new'. We're not reeling at the bar this time wondering what F&Y$(%&T($&T happened. Although much of the material is new, at least its within our realms of experience. Ted again launches into one declaration that this song is the best only to change his mind later on. The crowd raptures avidly, but Ted thinks they should be giving it up even more. I've got to admire this fervour, despite feeling a little impotent sat here writing this. There was a Mojo article recently where Lou Reed, an infamous masticater of journalists, retorted to one interviewer - "You probably have no talent in any musical area but you like music so you into doing this (journalism), and you're still there and lots of musicians aren't. (Slowly and sarcastically) Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha." Yeah it's ture I have an accursed lack of musical talent, but this heat is ultimately what I crave for; a passion that manifests in Snaith's painfully contorted expressions. On the double drum finale, with a bar rest every so often to prolong the ecstasy, Snaith raises both sticks skyward, preparing for ultimate smash, like a little kid in a thunder storm, hoping to be struck by lightening - communing with elements. This is the music I love.
As experienced by G (funk era).
PS: I confess to feelings of utter embarrassment in not being able to find out the names of the other two musicians that make up Caribou live, especially to the the amicably chilled guitarist who signed my CD. Much props also go out to Dan Snaith who was polite and patient when Mac and raved ecstatically in much the same corny way I'm sure he gets all the time, and also for laughing when I told him I was missing work.
* An explantation of why Manitoba had to change their name to Caribou. If it hadn't been for Ted, Mac and I would never have known they were in town. As D Snaith duly notes when a few clued up members shout "we love you, Handsome Dick Manitoba": "Handsome Dick Manitoba are a bunch of cunts".
outpatients.