Infringement Fundraiser / Chili Cookoff@ Nobody’s 1/30/2009

Performance Art in a Vacuum

a Rudy Sizzle review

Hello. What? Art is expression? Sure. I guess if you want to express yourself, you are entitled to do so in any way you see fit. The more you attempt to explain yourself though, the less the definition sticks, so just let your freak flag blow freely in the wind and have no concern as to what intellectual jerks and scornful sour pusses might take away from your zeal and eccentricities as you wiggle into your hipster clown suit and bang away on your Microkorg on a dirty basement floor. REMEMBER GRASSHOPPER: It is crucial to remain vigilant to ones own Id, appearing unscathed by the criticisms of anyone. You can transcend judgment by being the lightning rod that sets fire to that barn full of gas tanks. We’ve all been scrutinized by someone, there is always a pair of eyes attached to a nasty brain waiting to slice us up & cut us down to the size with a diatribe of venomous slander and opinions as far as the eye can see. No one is impervious to this; it’s just how thick your skin gets that makes the difference in the long run. You need to see yourself as a warrior and the battle is that stage, floor, whatever.

I am convinced that the above is a thesis for some lunatic staring intently in the mirror, dressed in a chicken suit with a banjo running through a loop station and a future gig booked @ (insert art space) as part of this years up coming Infringement Festival. I am not surprised that the Infringement Festival exists and that Buffalo has a sizable contingency of freaks and geeks that get hyped up over it. I love seeing people spill out of the shells, leaving the comfort of their bedroom to emulate the likes of Laurie Anderson, John Cage and Tony Conrad. Noise makers, avant-garde poets, theatrical misfits, jokesters and everything above and beyond congregate in unique settings to expose an alternative to the socially accepted “alternative” music and art scene. It is left of the left. Tending to be a rallying cry for local misanthropes who rarely leave the weirdness dungeon (or their video game stations), the Infringement Festival is good for someone who is uptight and used to a homeostasis that is flannel button downs and "indie rock cool" like me. I mean, I love experimental music as much as the next guy, but being immersed in an entire event dedicated to the crème of Buffalo’s freaky crop is a good dose of reality for us square pegs.

Freeze frame: Me, standing in the middle of the NAC (Nobody’s Art Center), ingesting homemade Chili and slugging down a delicious stout bought @ Mobil on the Run last Saturday. Life is weird. I stood there for a moment fixated on the painting of what seemed to be an impressionist piece of an ice cream melting City Hall done in Lemon Yellow and Purple and realized that the chili I liked the best was painted by the artist, Jason Klinger. Damn. He is really talented in both culinary art and fine art. I cannot paint anything except for skeletons with snakes coming out of their eye sockets (thanks heavy metal upbringing) and Slash portraits (thanks heavy metal upbringing, yet again!) I used to think that fine art was out of my league to criticize and that my opinions were of no consequence. There is some truth to this, and this can also be said for critiquing ones performance art. How the hell am I going to know why Gallagher smashes Watermelons? Eugene Chadbourne amplifies a rake, scratching it across the stage nonsensically and an audience of onlookers act impressed, while Pam and I stand there packing up the last of our gear post set thinking “what are we doing wrong?” There is no wrong or right in performance art. It is completely the moment’s notice, an impulse, totally unexpected and Id driven. This is something that resonated quite clearly at Nobody’s last Saturday.

I stood watching amazed and smiling watching The Dense, one of the finest examples of a local all-star lineup held in check by neurosis and gravity. The old adage “you don’t know what you’ve got, until it’s gone” aptly applies to the Dense playing their final show last Saturday. It was a shame to hear Andrew Sannes (the main impetus for the bands anxiety and overall live expression) state gloomily, “this is it for us folks, the last time we’ll all be playing together.” I love the Dense. There is no better example of raw catharsis with insanity as the glue then this band. They are genuine and the songs are great. No filler bullshit the music is stark and at times a throwback to early DEVO, the Dense is Buffalo music in a nutshell. Underdogs, freaks, odd ball textures (2 basses, a strange poly-synth droning throughout the set and bizarre manic vocals) with songs that tear across the room with abandon. I felt like I was watching early Floyd with Barrett. I am convinced that people will find a CD-r demo of them in 10 years and wax nostalgic about how amazing they were at this little art space back in the day. This shit never surprises me-- I always feel like the best things get swept under the rug or left in a box in the attic.



The other performances of the night were supplied by local dynamic Duo, A Hotel Nourishing & the Blue Laser. AHN is remarkable and rarely disappoints. Their music is taut and furious, somewhere between mid 90’s post punk and “For Respect” era Don Cab. If you find yourself watching them and thinking, “damn!” that is usually the common response yielded from AHN live. I’ve seen them on many occasion and this was no exception to their sheer kinetic force and explosion of sound.



Blue Lazer took to the stage last, but certainly not least in any way. There was a bit of downtime between the change-over but in the end it was well worth the 30 minute wait. Featuring a cast of bongo drum (with a contact microphone attached and boy was it loud!) and two keyboardists (one schooled, one not so schooled). The main thrust of the Blue Lazer set was a rant comprised of nonsense and strangely matter of fact humor that Blue Laser front man, Tim Sentman (Blue Laser), writes and rehearses! I found myself catching random lines that evoked hilarious imagery of intergalactic time travel, pizza delivery, cats in outer space and something about the weather. All in all, Blue Laser was a nice way to cap off an evening of unusual vibes and energy.

Patrons of Sweet: Nothing Drastic

Full Disclosure: Patrons Of Sweet frontman Vic Lazar contributes and is a friend to this blog. Although Vic's input here has been limited lately, he has been associated with myself and silo3 for the past several years.

Vic Lazar has been one of the greatest local musicians for the past 15 years, at least. His roster of past and present projects could fill a festival roster twice over. From His epic singer/songwriter work as Vox Humana, to being one third of the post-punk prog legends Knife Crazy, to His timeless ambient-electro collab with Pam Swarts in VictoryBlackLightHoney.

Ahem, with that out of the way...


Patrons of Sweet is like a 48-oz. steak, cut straight from the cow and tossed on the coals of an open-pit fire. Charred on the outside and bloody within, the is nothing subtle going on here. At times, the new record Nothing Drastic-- like last years Go Whatevers!, can be a ham-fisted take on mid-90s college rock. Throughout much of the album, Lazar and company switch between two volumes: 8 and 11. With an emphasis on urgency, the songs never have a chance to breath as the band throws in a new riff, tempo change, or vocal line almost every four bars. There are virtually no intro passages, no instrumental sections, no interludes, no crescendos, and no codas. As a rule, most of Nothing Drastic rarely comes within a whiff of anything that could be described as a groove. One of the only exceptions can be found in the album's transcendent closer-- "Under Such Heavy Surveillance."

A lack of repetitive grooves runs counter-intuitive to what one might expect from a group heavily influenced by 90s rock. Laying down a groove is a tool that last decade's alt-rockers wielded masterfully. From Fugazi to My Bloody Valentine to the Pixies and Nirvana, these bands knew the value of letting their songs breath and bounce.

The 90s also saw the renaissance of original guitar playing and like so many other Vic Lazar records, Nothing Drastic excels as a guitar masterstroke. While not entirely technical, the album is chock-full of original and unexpected twists and turns of the guitar phrase. Nothing Drastic should be required listening for anyone cynical of our local talent.

Many of the songs on this new record are obtuse and multilayered, revealing more to the listener with each successive pass through. With that in mind, The Patrons are at their absolute best when unloading titanic hooks, as first evidenced in the somewhat poppier Go Whatevers! "There's No More Room in the Beehive" and "Almost Executable" are two songs on Nothing Drastic that showcase the new lineup, with drummer Dave Bordin and bass player Matt Lavin, in full pop-bombast. However, these moments are too few and far between and could be evidence the band is still better off basking in the sunlight rather than wallowing in the muck.