Weekend Reviews

Music: Melt-Banana
Music: Mike Barfield
Art: Urban Roots Gallery
Music: B.B. King
Musical: "The Mystery of Edwin Drood"

Web posted: May 30, 2005

Storm Turns Up the Energy at Emo's Melt-Banana Show

It's always interesting to see a packed show at Emo's in the pouring rain. Much of the venue's outdoor area is covered: the area in front of the stage straight back to the rear of the venue and the bleachers off to the side. But the area in front of the bleachers where dozens of folks stand during crowded or sold-out shows is open to the skies. So when thunderstorms roll in, a packed house at Emo's suddenly becomes very, very packed.

Which is what happened during Saturday night's set by Japanese noise/surf/popsters Melt-Banana. The trio (plus American touring drummer Dave Witte) appeals to a wide range of weirdos: avant-garde rock fans rubbed shoulders with the legion of hardcore kids who get off on Melt's thrashy tempos. There were Japanese pop nerds hanging with folks just out for the evening.

In theory, Melt-Banana shouldn't be a huge draw, but add these folks up, and Emo's was nearly sold out. (The garage rock show in Emo's small room also drew a crowd, and provided a much needed refuge when the rain came.)

Thor and Friends — featuring longtime Austin drumming fixture Thor Harris — opened the show with a percussion-heavy set. They were followed by the Invincible Czars, a jump-suited mass of players who seem to be the Official Opening Act For Anything Weird Happening At Emo's.

Touring with the Melt cult was the Rhode Island grindcore band Daughters. Theirs is a highly technical thrash: precision stop-start riffs, stomach-churning blast beats and a singer who just would not stop flailing his hair. Perfect.

Melt-Banana has been working the same shtick for more than 10 years, but it's a great one. You get blurts of strangely addictive noise from flailing guitarist Agata, wearing, as always, his trademark surgical mask. There's thudding bass from Rika mm', her long hair almost immobile. And sing-songy vocals from the still-charismatic Yasuko; her singing still veers between J-pop bounce and grindcore wail.

Witte is a brilliant addition to the band, his deft stickwork both moves at light speed and swings at those tempos, which is almost unheard of for punk at this speed. The thunderstorm's sound and light show made for a perfect background roar: This was Melt-Banana against the elements. I think it was a tie.
— Joe Gross

Music

MIKE BARFIELD WOULD MAKE THE GODFATHER PROUD

Mike Barfield, the self-proclaimed Tyrant of TX Funk, waited offstage right at the Continental Club as his players opened the set, working up to a flow owing much to the Godfather of Soul's '70's supergroup, the J.B.'s. Barfield's infatuation with James Brown hardly ends there; the title track on his new release, "The Tyrant," is a facsimile of Brown's "(Call Me) Super Bad." While Barfield barks out various cities in Texas and tells them "I'm comin' to git ya," his organist converts the trademark guitar lick on Super Bad until Barfield, in a cadence comparable to Brown's, admits, "Everybody knows that I'm the Tyrant, and I rule with love."

The similarities between the Tyrant and the Godfather are buried in the music, though. On the surface, they are night and day. Barfield is white, has mutton chops and wears a porkpie hat — a look befitting his honky-tonk project, the Hollisters. Brown is, well, brown, wears hot pants and capes, has hair wavier than the Banzai Pipeline, and, most importantly, can drop into a split easier than a cheerleader with WD-40 on her (or his) soles. That isn't to say that Barfield doesn't have moves; he sashayed and snapped his fingers into a cold sweat. (Literally: Barfield was fighting a respiratory infection in the days leading up to the show.)

After a version of "Struggle" that would make any Black Panther proud, Barfield elaborated on some of those very moves during an interlude on "Funky Cupcake." There was the Beaumont Bellyache, the Driving Miss Daisy and the Spooky Grinder — the latter an NC-17 rated step best left to the imagination.

Although the repetitiveness — both musically and lyrically — of the Tyrant's funk-soul genre can wear on the CD player, the live version was dyn-o-mite. That's why it seemed like a joke when he said, "We don't consider ourselves a concert band, really."
— Michael Hoinski

Art

URBAN ROOTS GALLERY JOINS WEST END SCENE

Joining West End's parade of eateries and art spots is a new addition — Urban Roots Gallery. During my recent visit I met its owner and resident artist, E. Moses Diaz. Tired of the art fair circuit, Diaz said he decided to cut out the middleman by opening his own gallery/studio and showcasing his work there exclusively.

The artist's chosen medium is recycled aluminum, often soda cans. After running out of discarded materials from personal consumption, he admits to having to become a bit of a scavenger.

From his raw materials, he cuts out geometric aluminum shapes, which he then sculpts using shears and various hand tools. The shiny little shapes are mounted in shadow boxes or, in the case of his current "Cinematic" series, split-open 35-millimeter film canisters. Set against acrylic painted backgrounds, the steely monochromatic forms produce dramatic and super-slick cityscapes that may appear familiar, but do not represent any specific buildings or skylines.

In reproductions these works appear quite flat, but they are surprisingly 3-D. Sometimes the colored exteriors of the recycled cans cast a glow, backlighting the architectural clusters. (For example, aluminum from a Coke can creates a red halo effect.)

The result? Work informed by "urban" environments, by an artist hoping to make new "roots" in Austin. The gallery's name says it all.

Diaz's next exhibition opening June 2 (which is also First Thursday) will involve tiny shelves made from similar materials.
— Erin Keever

("Cinematic Collection" continues 10 a.m.-4 p.m., Tuesdays-Saturdays, or by appointment, Urban Roots Gallery, 1202-A W. Sixth St. Free. 913-8604.)

Music

B.B. KING AND LUCILLE STILL RESTING ON THEIR LAURELS

B.B. King has been sitting down on the job for years now — both literally and figuratively. The fact that he plays his beloved guitar, Lucille, from a seated position is understandable, given his age (79), his health and his considerable girth. But the fact that he's practically phoning in his performances is less forgivable, considering that he's still collecting full price for tickets.

King's Sunday night show at the Backyard, a benefit for the Austin Humane Society, attracted an estimated 2,375 fans. They came to hear the blues legend make that famed Gibson wail, to hear his once emotion-filled voice hit some soulful notes. But the lightning show that filled the sky outdid anything that occurred onstage; there was little drama in his disappointing hour-long set (which began 15 minutes after his band took the stage).

Most of his songs were perfunctory and seemed to be over in seconds, except "When Love Comes to Town" and a few others drawn out by a lot of chatter that, unfortunately, was lost to the back rows because King wasn't leaning into his mike half the time. For a guy who's performed as many decades worth of gigs as he has, he ought to know the rules of vocal projection. When he did sing, his voice was gruff and sometimes unsteady.

But when he finally slipped into a real blues tune, "I've Got a Mind to Give Up Livin'," he gave a tantalizing glimpse of the old B.B. His fingers moved supplely across Lucille's frets, and as he held the guitar over his head to sustain the last notes, there was joy on his face. If he'd been able to produce an entire set of those moments, it would have been worth every penny.
— Lynne Margolis

Musical

ESCAPE WITH 'EDWIN DROOD'

If you like piña coladas and getting caught in the rain, then you might like the Austin Playhouse's production of "The Mystery of Edwin Drood," an interactive musical within a musical by Rupert Holmes (the guy who sang "Escape (The Pina Colada Song)" in the '80s). The show won a bundle of Tonys when it premiered 20 years ago. And though it may lack they staying power of other musical comedies, it's still a fun romp that's worth the price of admission.

"Drood" concerns the efforts of the fictional late 19th-century Royal Court Players to present a complete production of Charles Dickens' final and unfinished work of the same title. Since Dickens died before completing the piece, the company decides to let the audience play God and determine the course of events. Specifically, the audience chooses the apparent killer and and the play's requisite lovers.

Director Don Toner employed a minimalist approach. Rather than distracting with flashy sets and out-of-control creative stretches, Toner allowed the combined strength of the material and his cast to sell the show. Not incidental to that success was the ever-marvelous Jill Blackwood, who, in her double role as Edwin Drood/Alice Nutting, reminded Austinites why she is in such high demand. Her performance was a lot like the dress Hilary Swank wore to the Oscars this year — the blue Guy Laroche number with the high neckline and missing back: its ostensible simplicity masked a deliberate edge. Other performers met with similar results, though none could match Blackwood's nuclear voltage. As the sinister John Jasper/Clive Paget, Rick Roemer hit a nice balance of camp and menace. And Jacqui Cross charged full-force through her role as the opium pushing Princess Puffer/Angela Prystock.

Given that it was opening weekend, the inevitable rough edges reared their ugly heads: flubbed lines, flat notes and missed steps gave reason for pause at certain points. Despite such blunders, the audience couldn't help submitting to the cast's overwhelming enthusiasm.

("The Mystery of Edwin Drood" continues 8 p.m. Thursdays through Saturdays, 5 p.m. Sundays (with a 2:00 p.m. matinee on June 25) through June 26. Austin Playhouse, 3601 South Congress Ave. $25-$30. 476-0084, www.austinplayhouse.com.)

— Tommy O'Malley