rawk.
Man… or Astroman?
the Horseshoe
27 October 2001
Saturday's festivities began with a trip to the recently renovated and pretentiously re-named Koolhaus (formerly the Warehouse, formerly RPM) to see Staggered Crossing and Midnight Oil. Staggered are a local rock outfit - tight, solid, great voice on the lead singer (J.T. - a sweet guy, hasn't succumbed to the rock-star swagger yet). Midnight Oil, on the other hand, failed to capture our attention. They seemed to be going through the motions; the (small) crowd they attracted looked like they'd been following them for fifteen years, and were so happy that they'd finally arrived in Canada, that it almost didn't matter what was happening on stage. By the third song, the group abandoned the new album they're meant to be promoting in favour of that hit they had back in the day. Next!
Next was a trip downtown to the 'Shoe, where Atomic 7 were warming up the stage. a pared-down three man (drums, upright bass, and the ever-amazing guitarist Brian Connelly of Shadowy Men on a Shadowy Planet and Neko Case and her Boyfriends) unit, snappily dressed and tight as anything, they looked like (and, during the surfy cover of Stand By Your Man, sounded like) they belonged on stage at a high school prom in Twin Peaks. Very spooky cool.
During the break, the stage was transformed into a white-screen moonscape, ready for projection. The crowd of devotées (one guy I overheard had been waiting for years to see them, and had driven hours to get there) crushed towards the stage through a brief soundcheck. Finally, the latest incarnation of Man or Astroman appeared on stage: Coco the Electric Monkey (bass and keyboards - of the apple variety), Birdstuff (drums and general mayhem), and Trace Reading (guitar and "vocals").
My old buddy Greg used to say that the first job of an entertainer is to entertain, and these guys take that dictum to heart. Instrumental music can be distancing; the audience has no words to sing alng with, and there is a tendency for instrumentalists to concentrate on what they're doing rather than who's watching. That's not an issue with MoAM. In addition to great hot music and a visual show featuring live streaming video projection, they perform for the audience, and not just themselves. In addition to robot-themed stage antics and general tomfoolery (Birdstuff mugs for the cameras just about constantly while playing), they interacted with the audience in a variety of ways: no need for the drummer to stay behind the kit when there's a mic to yell into, right? Coco, alternating between bass and a keyboard ripped from an Apple computer, dropped and gave us twenty (well, seventeen) pushups. They even pulled a hapless volunteer from the audience (full disclosure: it was me) to operate a song composed for an Applewriter dot-matrix printer (brilliant - anyone who's ever used one of those knows the rhythms they pound out can be addictive). The merging of instro-surf with electronic feedback works wickedly well musically, in addition to appealing to the geek-boys that make up the majority of the instro-surf fan base, and providing the boys with great opportunities for schtick. There were the occasional shouts of "more rock, less talk" from the audience, but the mood was overwhelmingly appreciative.
Especially leading up to the finale: these boys don't compose odes to the two-mile linear particle accelerator for nothing, they know their science (hence their rabid following among the geek-boy comic-book crowd). The stage went dark. There appeared a creation: the tesla coil. A platform (with much soldering, wiring, etc.) from which a column arises, topped with a torus with a diameter of over a metre (the entire structure was about two metres tall, glistening silver in the darkeness. They've built bigger ones in the past, but due to the costs and bad karma associated with destroying equipment (phone system, P.A.) of three separate bars, the tall version had to be retired. plans to inistall an eight-metre version on top of a restaurant in Atlanta sadly failed to be approved by the city). Controlled by Coco, it pumped out rhythms in purple sparks, shooting a metre in every direction (with incidental smoke adding to the aura of danger - the Tesla coil is not for use by amateurs).
The crowd was happy. The crowd was screaming for more. Do not miss an opportunity to see Man or Astroman if they visit a planet near you.