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.
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