Godspeed You! Black Emperor (Total Life)
Lee's Palace. Sunday, April 24, 2011 (evening show).
I wouldn't say that I was a particularly ardent fan of Godspeed You! Black Emperor (even when they were known as the less-confoundingly punctuated Godspeed You Black Emperor!) during their original run. But like many, I was eventually convinced by their quote-unquote cinematic post-rock style, a hugely-influential brand of crescendo-climbing instrumentalism, highly evocative stuff despite (owing to?) its lack of reliance on lyrics to carry the emotional heft. For such a cryptically anti-mersh band, a lengthy "hiatus" was a canny marketing move, and there was no shortage of pent-up demand to see them upon their return. The band clearly could have played one of the city's larger, barn-like structures, but instead elected to play a mini-stand of shows at the relatively cozier Lee's.
No surprise that for a band whose popularity had only increased during their absence, there was a pretty mixed crowd with back-in-the-day-ers mixing freely with those who would have been in elementary school the last time the band passed through town. And similarly, there was a broad mix of punks, noise-heads and representatives of a whole Constellation of sub-sub-genres on hand.
The support act for this show was Total Life, a side-project for Growing's Kevin Doria. I didn't know anything about his main gig, so I had no particular expectations as a lone figure stepped on stage behind a table of electronics. After he plugged in some stuff and switched things on a short blast of white noise got the crowd's attention, but the sound steadied out after that.
The day's afternoon show featured an opening slot by The Sadies. That would have been rather fun on its own merits, of course, but I had seen them just a week previous — and, anyways, Total Life's near-undifferentiated drone felt like more of an apt set-up for the main action. Near-undifferentiated drone is the key thing here — those who were aggravated by noise (or didn't bring earplugs) would likely have found this to seem like just one irritating, unceasing blare. But there was variation here with overtones slowly rising and falling against the humming electronic background — like a train passing in super-slow motion in some sort of alternate universe where noise gets converted to a thick liquid that weighs you down and the doppler effect is suspended. A couple guys behind me started howling, like this was causing some sort of werewolf-like transformation to them.
After about eight minutes of churning build, Doria started to add some pirping notes in counterpoint — once you're into the headspace of this stuff, you can start to appreciate the impact of fine-grained differences in the sound. And I don't know if the people around me were into it like that or were merely silenced by the overwhelming volume, but there was a surprising level of attentiveness during what would be, in most contexts, considered distinctly uneasy listening.
More than twenty minutes in, a low pulsing thrum created a sense of propulsion — at least in the sense that a glacier has a sense of propulsion — ending with an accelerating figure to give the whole thing a feeling of lift. All told, a rather satisfying half-hour dronescape. Looking around, it was obviously alienating some people, but I rather enjoyed this. A bit of a strange thing to stand and watch, this is the sort of thing I'd like to be sitting down for — a hammock would be even better.
Listen to an excerpt from this set here.
Between sets, there was some top-notch jazz on the PA (MJQ, I think) and then it faded out. For several minutes, there was only the sound of chatter in the room, until, very quietly, something started emerging in the background. In fact, it I weren't waiting for the "Hope Drone" I wouldn't have noticed it for a couple more minutes, when the bank of old-school film projectors behind the sound booth kicked into action and the lone word "HOPE" appeared on the screen behind the stage. Projectionist Karl Lemieux is listed as a member of the band alongside those on stage, and that seems very fitting, as his overlapping montages from those pronouncedly analogue projectors did as much to create emotional states as the musicians he accompanied.
That appearance of "HOPE" focused the crowd. As the chatter settled down, one guy shouted, "I've been waiting my whole life for this!", and people broke out into applause. The crowd waited as the drone slowly picked up, a weird interzone between show and non-show with the prerecorded music (heavy on amp hum and bowed cymbals) playing to the empty stage. That lasted for more than ten minutes, building in volume, before the band's eight members took the stage one by one, not rushing as they settled into their (mostly-seated) positions, tuning their instruments and puttering around in preparation.
And then as a slow theme from Sophie Trudeau's violin emerged, the band finally eased into "Moya".1 With an introduction the length of most other band's songs, it was no surprise that the band hadn't switched over to some new economy of form — the slow unfurling of the music is definitely one of their trademarks. And so, a concert that would be longer than most would only have seven songs. That restrained maximalism would be delivered by a lineup that included two drummers, a pair of bassists and usually three guitarists.
An Eastern European-styled violin solo announced "Albanian", an unreleased song that the band was playing live before their hiatus in 2003. It worked its way into something could have once been a folksong, the drums building up to a rollicking whirling dervish rhythm, leaving the bent guitar notes and busts of feedback-drenched wah to imprint the band's identity onto it. A recorded voice giving a nostalgic recounting of Coney Island ("They don't sleep anymore on the beach") was the segue into "Monheim", arousing the loneliness of nearly-lost memories — and meanwhile the medieval images on the screen melted into the words "THE ANATOMY OF MELANCHOLY".
During "World Police and Friendly Fire", someone in the front row went down in a heap, causing a brief stir as the crowd around her helped her back to her feet. The guitarist up front — I believe it was Mike Moya — offered his water to her just before the images on the screen morphed into apocalyptic flames.
The big, loud crescendos tend to be the easiest parts to talk about, but I often enjoy the quiet interludes even more, like the detuned swirliness leading into "The Cowboy" as the screen showed trains travelling through landscapes. And the opening of "Gathering Storm" came with perhaps the most optimistic imagery — plants in a field, a home, a kitty — lending a palpable feeling of ascendance, even when the footage proceeded to reveal that the house was old and collapsing in on itself and the music began to evoke its title more strongly.
Closer "The Sad Mafioso" had a different sort of apocalyptic energy, and it was here that the band's abstract political stance was more foregrounded. A stock ticker printing the message "ANALYSIS FOCUSING ON PROFITABILITY" was intercut with a sign reading "The end is nigh" before switching to footage of a garbage dump. Only towards the song's end did it hint at a response, with footage of people protesting — a collective response, a call for united voices from a voiceless band.2 And then the set ended with the reverse of the opening, with members filing off one by one through the haze of a drone. It was over two hours, and a little exhausting — but at the end the screen didn't need to say "HOPE".
At the time of the show I posted a song here, which is now joined by another here. The latter also contains a link to the Live Music Archive, where you can stream or download this entire set.
1 The band referred to the song on the setlist by its alternate title "Gorecki" — it's "an adaptation of his third symphony," by guitarist Mike Moya, wikipedia tells me.
2 The band's non-hierarchical, release-no-manifestos approach made their reappearance a striking pre-echo of the Occupy movement that would emerge later in the year. There's probably an excellent essay to be written on this topic, if it hasn't been done already. Please send links if it has.
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