For over three months now, my calendar has had a huge red circle around Sunday, May 21st. Stephanie and I both took of the preceding Friday and following Monday. We read up on DIY screen printing. We set up a homemade studio with some freeware, cheap mics, out of tune guitars, and percussion borrowed from the library. We finished massive projects at work that had consumed our time and energy. We rode our bikes, we bought tapes for a quarter at garage sales, we planted flowers. We got ready . . . for Animal Collective.

No other currently-active band – and very few dormant ones – has instilled in me the anticipation for a live show like Animal Collective. Seeing Universal Truths & Cycles-period Guided by Voices on the cramped stage of local craphole The Hurricane was a mind-blowing, open-armed “Welcome Back” from the world of rock n roll after several years immersed in techno, and when Bill Callahan’s (seemingly) final tour as Smog made a stop at the Grand Emporium a few years ago, it was a tear-inducing experience. Orbital at The Madrid was a last-second decision and one that I am ever-thankful for making.

But none of these compare to the magnetic draw that pulled me closer and closer to this designated Sunday. It is difficult to describe the group to others, especially those unfamiliar with independent, underground music. At the same time though, there are so many touchstones of pop icon familiarity threading throughout the group’s output that it’s not overly difficult to encourage exploration of their music. Explaining the affinity for a guy named Panda Bear, or what the heck “Avey Tare” means, though, is a totally separate matter.

After a lengthy afternoon enjoying the late spring weather in Lawrence, we entered the Granada just after the doors opened at 8. We headed to the front of the stage, where several others who’d entered ahead of us were congregating. There was a wide variety of people in the crowd – art school kids, hipsters, suburban teens, overall-wearing hippies, people dressed in a variety of face paints and costumes, and even several older folks who, surprisingly, did not appear to be chaperoning anyone. People were circulating among the various groups, striking up conversations about favorite songs and albums from the group, or talking about other shows they’d been to, and just hanging out. The venue hadn’t really filled up much, so there wasn’t a lot of jostling for the choice positions up front.

At a few minutes after 9, a gray-haired man with a matching bushy beard came out holding an acoustic guitar – the legendary Sir Richard Bishop, of the Sun City Girls. Switching between deft 6-string ragas and darkly-humored folk, the guitarist warmed the initially cautious crowd, many of whom probably did not know what to expect from Bishop and probably even fewer still had ever heard of him before. Coming off like a prickly old bastard whose deal with the devil was evident in the rapid delicate fretting of the instrumental songs, Bishop scared the crowd into moving a few steps closer to him, and by then, there was no moving away. At the end of his set, the audience, which had by now begun to fill in the theater, erupted in applause.

Just after 10 o’clock, the house music lowered to silence, and the lights dimmed just a bit. Avey Tare (David Portner), Panda Bear (Noah Lennox), and Geologist (Brian Weitz) took the stage. Stephanie was sure we had spotted the band walking around Lawrence a couple of hours before the show started, and sure enough she was right. Performing without fourth member Deakin, the trio took up their positions – Panda Bear behind a sampler, with a floor tom and a high hat to his right; Avey Tare with a sampler in front of him, a keyboard behind him, and a conga drum to his side; and Geologist, with his signature headlamp, manning yet another sampler. That’s right – no guitars, and no bass guitars.

I would love to detail a set list for you, but honestly, I cannot. They opened with “Doggy”, and played, at various points in the 90 minute, encore-less set “Who Could Win a Rabbit”, “Kids on Holiday,” and several new songs, including some that would be on the forthcoming Strawberry Jam album, and others which would not.

The high point of the show was the minute they started, and the second-highest point also served as the low point, and that was the second they stopped. The energy of this band was at the same time child-like in its innocence and enthusiasm, and mature in its breadth and scope. It was like a folk train and a dub train crashing head on. Avey and Panda’s vocals harmonized perfectly, while all three dropped samples and loops in and out with precision. Songs that had been built upon late-night campfire sessions were cut up, deconstructed, rebuilt, and reborn. Throughout the set, huge, simple rhythms built strong grooves for both the crowd and band to jump around to, while drum samples and synth lines skittered around organically. At times, it felt closer to the zenith of a great deep house set than an indie rock show.

Avey Tare danced himself into a sweaty mess by the middle of the show. Geologist carefully pulsated throughout the set, only stepping away from his equipment to kick his monitors out around him for the “We Tigers” screamfest on the next-to-last song. Panda Bear kept fairly still, looking just over the top of his samplers for the most part, eyes closed and singing along, at times leaning over the floor tom when it was needed.

Being essentially two people back from the stage was a blessing, despite some in the crowd mistaking the show for some sort of hardcore punk dick-swinging contest and attempting to start a slam pit under the guise of trance-induced dancing. Although most of the amplified sound was positioned at an angle behind us, we had better exposure to the two drums on stage, which didn’t seemed to be mic’d very well through the sound board. When I was able to turn around and look at how the house was reacting behind me, I wasn’t surprised to see a sea of smiling, happy, sweaty faces – the roar of approval and adoration throughout the band’s set was undeniable. The trio left the stage, seemingly satisfied with the show.

The impact of experiencing a band like Animal Collective is undeniable. This is easily one of, if not the, biggest band in the world right now in terms of creative scope. Consider that this band is at least five albums into its career, and far more counting solo and side project releases. Consider that with each release, Animal Collective has become more accessible to more and more people, and, at the same time furthered its own unique niche in the world of music. Consider the breadth of their influence on not only the immediate music scene, but in the years to come. So few others have succeeded in combining the experimental and the palatable. This was truly a fantastic, memorable night, one that was well worth the anticipation.

The Lymbyc System had originally been booked to play the Record Bar back in February, and when it became another in a quick succession of shows to be indefinitely postponed or cancelled at the venue, I began to have my worries that things at the bar weren’t going to shape up to be as great as I thought they would be. Those fears were short-lived as more and more shows began appearing on the Record Bar’s website, including a rescheduled date for this Tempe, AZ band. In another stroke of luck, it fell on the night before we started a four-day weekend, so the sometimes-prohibitive weeknight aspect of this Thursday show was not a factor.

It’s not every day that post-rock bands are booked to play Kansas City, and even more rare when the band in question does not follow the typical “instrumental hard rock” track of songwriting. Listening to The Lymbyc System’s Carved by Glaciers EP and their 2007 Mush debut Love Your Abuser reveals a band as equally influenced by the jazzy time-signatures of Tortoise as they are the majestic guitar-crush of Mogwai, while mixing in a healthy dose of synthesizers and samples.

I had been anticipating this show for quite some time, and so despite the three hours we’d spent at the Roasterie show earlier that evening, I headed out to the Record Bar while Stephanie stayed in. Arriving around 10:30PM, I gladly paid the $6 cover and headed inside, again thankful for a venue that is booking interesting shows at a reasonable price. The first opening act, OK Jones, had just finished and local hiphop collective Symbol Heavy were setting up.

To the right of the stage, though, I saw something which no one, especially the gear nerds of the world, ever wants to see: a bank of keyboards and synthesizers being furiously taken apart so that the various inner and outer hardware pieces could be wiped down and dried off with bar towels. Apparently, a couple of beer bottles and drinks had rattled off of a speaker stack during the opening act and spilled into Jared Bell’s Rhodes and MiniKorg, and he admitted his first reaction was to cancel the show so as to not risk the integrity of the equipment. Thankfully, the night was saved by a blow dryer provided by a woman in the audience. Although the process took the entirety of the Symbol Heavy collective’s set to complete, Bell was satisfied with the results.

After the final pieces of the keyboards had been put back together, Bell and his brother Michael began to set up their equipment on stage. It seemed like they weren’t leaving room for the other members with the way things were being set up . . . until I realized that it was just the two of them. I had to ask Jared to make sure; indeed, the volume of sound created by this band is produced between just the two brothers. Admittedly, each of these guys could use another set of arms – Jared was surrounded by his Rhodes and Minikorg, a bass synth, and a sampler, while Michael, who reminded me of Paul Westerberg, manned a full drum set, an IMac, a sampler, a Minikorg of his own, and a piece of equipment that resembled a xylophone, although I’m not sure whether this was an analog or digital piece.

The brothers took their positions behind their respective kits – Jared lowly leaning forward over his keyboards and Michael, sitting higher on his drum seat than I’m used to seeing – and then launched into an amazing, sonically-adventurous set that ran the gamut from loud, propulsive and head thrash-inducing to quiet ambience. Indeed, these two could each use another two sets of arms each, and what they were able to accomplish with the one set they had only validated my earlier concept of the group as at least a three-, if not a four-piece.

A decent-sized crowd had held up well for a week night, and most were there to see the group. Both those familiar with the band and those who were at the show by accident were rightfully held in awe of the duo. Michael Bell’s energetic drumming, not to mention the juggling act of running samples and switching between a variety of drumsticks throughout the set was impressive. Jared Bell’s immersion into the ebb and flow of sonic crush was evident, often resembling a mad organist attempting to conjure a lightning storm that would soon give life to some occult creation. Waves of lush Rhodes lines became oceans above steady, jazz-based rhythms that stayed on steadying point throughout.

Nick, the sound guy at the Record Bar for the show, had the band sounding loud, but clear, which has been a problem at previous shows. Due to the 1:30AM closing time of the bar and the lengthy between-set pauses (which were, for once, necessary due to the spilled-drink snafu) the Lymbyc System were only slotted to play for about 45 minutes. This didn’t stop the crowd from bursting into chants for an encore when the two finished, and we even went so far as to turn to the back bar where the owners were standing to beg them to let the group play one more song. The two took their positions once again and slowly built into a ten-minute jam that brought the crowd right back up and then carefully back down again, and with a few more gracious, quick thank-you’s, it was over.

Once again, the Record Bar continues to book acts that are both edgy and accessible. This is a city that struggles to compete with not only the close proximity of college towns Lawrence and Columbia, but the established metropolitanism of St. Louis and the rapidly-growing scenes in Omaha, Des Moines, and Iowa City. Appreciators of quality independent music should be reverently thankful of the venue and those who work to bring these shows here instead of allowing them to skip past us as they’d done for the dozen or so years prior to the Record Bar’s opening. The majority of shows I’ve witnessed at the venue have drawn a vocally supportive and enthusiastic audience that, even on small nights, has been able to demonstrate a knowledge of and sincere appreciation for the artists on stage. This is what this city needs, and in reality, it’s what the city needs more of. The Record Bar is what we have, and in reality, right now, it’s all we could ask for.

further resources:

the lymbyc system homepage

lymbyc system on myspace

mush records

the record bar

Across genres, Kansas City has relied, by necessity, on its underground music scene to bring independent, experimental artists to town. Very few venues around town have taken chances on these edgier acts, instead preferring to stay within the comforts of 80’s and 90’s throwback rawk bands that should, in all seriousness, be thrown back.

There are those, however, who are doing what they can. One of these individuals, Doby Watson (who records as Boo Hiss), is doing everything he can to bolster the burgeoning indie folk movement’s exposure in Kansas City through inventive booking of both local and nationally-touring acts. I’d talked with Doby a few times after learning of his existence from the guys in Grumpy Bear, who had done a split EP release with Boo Hiss on the great Tract label, and have been extremely impressed by not only his musical output, but by his motivation to bring acts like Thanksgiving and Tiger Saw to the area.

With great weather and an extended weekend in front of us, we couldn’t think of a much better way to spend our evening than seeing Doby’s latest endeavor, a free show featuring a combination of local and national acts playing at the Roasterie Cafe in Brookside.

We arrived around 6, and had found we’d missed the first couple of sets, which had been played out on the front patio. We grabbed a couple of drinks to cool down from the short bike ride over, and made our way inside with the good-sized crowd. By and large, the spectators seemed to be quite a bit younger than Stephanie and me, and most of them were much more familiar with the acts than either of us as well. Throughout the night’s sets, they were attentive and appreciative of the artists, which was a refreshing change from the usual awkward self-conscious posturing that often occurs with the younger set.

First up for us was Austin’s Tony Presley, who performs as Real Live Tigers. Presley’s set began with a loud, clear, strong voice that resonated off the walls of the coffee shop and brought an immediate hush from the uninvolved patrons on the other side of the cafe. He offered the inspiration and meaning behind the stories between many of the songs, and Presley’s deep vocals and halting method of delivery brought to mind both Will Oldham and Bill Callahan’s more morose work.

Tinyfolk was up next. This Indiana native, who also goes by Russ and is currently on tour with Real Live Tigers, writes songs on the ukelele about owls, boys with lizard scales who listen to DMX, and shrugging off his birth name. His creative lyrics combined with a very upbeat sound to produce a surprisingly enjoyable set.

Boo Hiss followed with a shortened set of songs dealing largely with being out on the road away from friends and family, and then closed out with a new song he’d just written from a forth-coming song cycle. His songs were done with the assured confidence brought on by Watson’s extensive touring, and his humble graciousness to the other acts playing was evident in the decision to keep his set short to allow the others a chance to play.

Red Bear was next. The Chicago native’s infectiously boisterous humor won over those in the crowd not already familiar with him (including us), and his set of bright, loud acoustic songs was full of surprises. One thing can be said for sure – there is a lot of life in this guy.

Manipulator Alligator was next. Essentially a local artist, he played a semi-short set of acoustic songs due to the impending closure of the cafe. His plaintive, intimate lyrics demonstrated a lot of personal expressiveness.

Closing out the night was another Chicagoan, Super Famicon, who was joined by Red Bear on banjo. A free spirit indeed, Super Famicon rolled through a set of both upbeat and downtempo acoustic songs full of personal stories told through colorful imagery.

One of the best parts about nights like this is the opportunity to pick up albums from artists that I otherwise wouldn’t have exposure to. Not only do I get a memento of a previously unknown act, but the money I spend on their release goes directly to back to them – and probably ends up in either their gas tank or stomache within a matter of hours.

Thankfully, the small merch table at the show was well-stocked with a wide variety of materials from all the artists of the night, and so we concentrated on the out-of-towners as best we could. Some highlights included the 8″ lathe-cut EP from Manipulator Alligator (featuring an interesting glitch-beat track); a locally-compiled cassette compilation featuring all of the traveling acts present as well as Lake and many others; the fourth installment of Tract Records’ Eye of the Beholder compilation featuring Real Live Tigers, Tinyfolk, Great Lake Swimmers, and Haley Bonar; the newest releases from Real Live Tigers, Tinyfolk, and Red Bear; and lastly, the great selection of home-made bookmarks, zines, tapes, and cds of Super Famicon, of which we had to have one of each.

Doby has recently put out the call to those interested in helping out with these sort of events locally, and on the bike ride home we discussed what we could do to get involved. The sincerity of the artists present that night and the genuine enjoyment experienced by the diverse crowd was invigorating, and provided a real motivation for us to move beyond a spectator role and into a more participatory position within the culture.