Black Moth Super Rainbow
Saturday, August 1, 2009
White Room, Miami
Better Than: An acid throwback.
There was something bittersweet about catching Black Moth Super Rainbow at White Room Saturday night. On the one hand it was among the absolute best nights Poplife has ever put together (and they've put together a good many few too); on the other it was Poplife's last Saturday night stand at the venue. And while that doesn't in any way mean there won't be more glorious nights to come at the NoDo hotspot; it does mean that they most likely won't be coming under the guise of Poplife.
But boy, did the contingent end their 20-month run on one helluva high note.
By midnight, the line to get in to the joint snaked around the corner, because by midnight the joint was packed. Wall-to-wall Wynwood hipster and those who aspire to the title vied alongside the kinda closeted freaks who could only come out on a night like this night. I shan't dare try to list the names of all the infamous that were present. But I will say all the infamous were present, if not accounted for. And this time their presence was no mere pose either.
How could it be with Black Moth Super Rainbow tripping the night into
something so utterly fantastic? On paper (and in interview), BMSR could
be construed as a tad pretentious. In person however, they're simply
gutturally grandiose. And on Saturday night this ragtag gaggle of
Western Pennsylvania outcasts turned White Room into some kinda
free-for-all, and a place where wallflowers undoubtedly need not apply.
And in so doing they rallied the crowd into some beautiful frenzy.
Two
webcammed rants set up the set. The first prefaced with a series of
snaps of Insane Clown Posse's Juggalos and featured a
gravity-challenged fatso who promised to list the "Five Worst Bands
Ever." At the top of his heap, of course, was Black Moth Super Rainbow,
a band "so unbearable to listen to" that "you must be a complete
douchebag" if you do. That, in turn, set up Adult Swim star Eric
Wareheim's comeback, in which he insisted that BMSR fans "are not
douchebags." And to make sure everybody got the point, Wareheim asked
the crowd to repeat after him: "I am not a douche bag. I am not even a
d-bag. I am an attractive and creative person." Amazingly, they did.
From
there on out things went wondrously haywire. A his-and-her pair of
knob-twirlers was flanked by a devilish axe grinder and a ski-masked
man keeping the backbeat. And off to the side lurked some kinda
Susquatch, out of which emanated the sing-song robo-voice that has
become part and partial to the BMSR sound.
But Susquatch wasn't
at all content to lurk anywhere for long, and he stage-dived off into
the scrum before the end of "Born on the Day the Sun Didn't Rise." At
least I think that's the tune BMSR opened with. What little notes I did
manage to take from the safety of my DJ booth perch includes that
title. But it also includes "Twin of Myself" and "Smile the Day After
Today" (also off the recent Eating Us), as well as "Sun Lips" and "Spinning Cotton Candy In A Shack Made Of Shingles" (off of Dandelion Gum). And other than "Sun Lips" I can't even be sure any of those songs were even performed.
That's
okay though. Standing around with pen and pad in hand is no way to
experience Black Moth Super Rainbow. In fact, keeping track of what
tunes got played when pretty much defeats the whole purpose. See for
BMSR it's best to just let go, and allow the deep-seated throb of
bleeps and blips to wash over you, until title and sequence no longer
even matter. This way, when the fake-fur clad Susquatch comes roaring
over your shoulders, you can roar right along with him.
Critic's Notebook
Personal Bias: Having dug BMSR since their split 12" with The Octopus Project (Houses of Apples and Eyeballs 2006), you might say I knew them when.
Random Detail: The white room at White Room was so packed people started stacking themselves to see the stage.
By the Way:
BMSR sell all kinds of goodies on their site,
including the scratch-n-sniff Drippers EP, which features "Black Yogurt" with Mike Watt.
