If in the practice of yoga you perform certain poses and movements in order to massage the inner organs – said to be healthy and stimulating – can the same be accomplished by massaging the organs with sound waves?
These are thoughts that flitted through my mind as My Bloody Valentine took us along on a ride inside their vortex of sound Tuesday night.
They may very well be the loudest band on the planet.
They are also amazing.
The venue (The Concourse at SF Design Center) was huge and not well-designed for the purpose of a musical performance. I count myself lucky to have been close enough to the stage to avoid having to deal with the poor acoustics of the room. I planted myself in the second row in front of Kevin Shields, donned my earplugs (which were handed out, free of charge, as we entered the venue – though many of us brought our own) - and settled in for the ride.
I counted about a dozen full stacks lined up across the stage – most of them Marshalls – all with additional microphones attached, right against the grills. Colin's drum kit was set up right in the center, between them, buffered by sheets of plexiglass. Kevin's effects pedals were mounted on a board so large that it was carried out by two techs – I think I read somewhere he uses around 32 pedals onstage.
Without a word as they took their places, the band ripped into "Only Shallow" to kick off the performance. Yes! I was exuberant. Finally – getting to see MBV live!
(I literally just missed them in '92 – when they toured with Dinosaur Jr – I went to that show in Atlanta with my ex, but unfortunately, don't remember now why, we arrived late just as they were finishing…..)
With each song it seemed they got louder...layers and layers of sound, ethereal vocals buried within, just like the recordings. No, I couldn't really make out the lyrics, but somehow it didn't really matter. Colin was solid on the drums, Deb Googe was planted in front of him rocking out on the bass. Bilinda Butcher was seemingly effortlessly strumming her guitar, with her big wide curvy smile, and Kevin, true to "shoegaze" form, was focused on his wizardry on guitar. Together, in complete unspoken cooperation, they made powerful, loud, shimmering, beautiful noise. It was an exercise in the art of sound sculpture.
Very little was said between songs, except for Kevin early on several times having quick meetings at the side of the stage with one of his techs. He did, however, near the end thank us for coming out – twice, I believe – which was nice and more than other shows got, from what I've read.
They played no new material, but a good solid selection of tunes from both albums – which was just dandy with us. I was completely happy.
This is a close enough approximation of the setlist I lifted from a couple of other websites :
Only Shallow
When You Sleep
You Never Should
Cigarette In Your Bed
Come In Alone
I Only Said
Nothing Much to Lose
To Here Knows When
Slow
Soon
Feed Me With Your Kiss
and, for the encore, You Made Me (Realize)
Yes, this last included the trademark 20-minute jet engine roar. All four members of the band stood in place and furiously banged or strummed, continuously, building this incredible, layered, awesome, outrageous, bone-rattling sound. Lights were wildly flashing and strobing – blinding and sometimes coercing us to just close our eyes and give in to the sound, let it take us where it may.
Wearing earplugs was the ONLY way to really appreciate this experience – otherwise it would have been too painful. In this case, wearing the earplugs actually helped, enabled me to make out distinguishing characteristics within the wall of sound like subtle pitch and volume variations, small twirps and beeps and swirlies here and there coming from Kevin's guitar. But I stood in the vortex of whirling sound and felt it, all around me, despite being surrounded by other human bodies. It was like standing in front of a big jet engine...or inside one.
The hair on my arms felt like it was dancing. The hair on my head lifted subtly off my neck. The cloth of my dress was twitching against my skin. I opened my hands at my sides to the stage and felt the waves coming into my palms and through my fingers like tiny breezes. Several times I thought I felt something against the front of my boot, but when I looked down, nothing was there. The entire building was vibrating. My bones were rattling, my innards were vibrating.
And then I felt my sinuses draining, even though they hadn't been clogged to begin with. Wow! This was literally clearing my head. This is when I started having those thoughts about breathing in sound and the effects of sound waves on the body's organs. I took deep breaths – parting my lips - breathing it in. I thought, "This is a full body massage with sound!" It was truly a visceral experience.
I felt each pound of the kick drum as a hit of wind – literally – like I was inside of the drum itself. I was inside this sound, and it was inside me. I was united with the audience and with the band, inside their music with them as they were making it. It was like we were all participants in some sort of sound experiment. What a mind trip. I sound like a tripping hippie: "Hey, man, we were all one with the music." And look, ma, no drugs!
And then, just when you started to think you might not be able to take it much longer and if it got any louder your head might explode - it was over – by some subtle cue the band suddenly slid off the rocket ship and launched into melody again and finished the song, and then they were gone.
Um. Wow.
And to answer the original question...afterward, my voice felt like clear liquid in my throat as I applauded and cheered. My body felt pretty loose. As I left the venue and walked the several blocks through the city streets to the bus, I felt relaxed yet energized, rejuvinated. My head was clear. As long as you're wearing good earplugs to leave your eardrums out of the exercise, I guess breathing in sound is pretty good for you.
These are thoughts that flitted through my mind as My Bloody Valentine took us along on a ride inside their vortex of sound Tuesday night.
They may very well be the loudest band on the planet.
They are also amazing.
The venue (The Concourse at SF Design Center) was huge and not well-designed for the purpose of a musical performance. I count myself lucky to have been close enough to the stage to avoid having to deal with the poor acoustics of the room. I planted myself in the second row in front of Kevin Shields, donned my earplugs (which were handed out, free of charge, as we entered the venue – though many of us brought our own) - and settled in for the ride.
I counted about a dozen full stacks lined up across the stage – most of them Marshalls – all with additional microphones attached, right against the grills. Colin's drum kit was set up right in the center, between them, buffered by sheets of plexiglass. Kevin's effects pedals were mounted on a board so large that it was carried out by two techs – I think I read somewhere he uses around 32 pedals onstage.
Without a word as they took their places, the band ripped into "Only Shallow" to kick off the performance. Yes! I was exuberant. Finally – getting to see MBV live!
(I literally just missed them in '92 – when they toured with Dinosaur Jr – I went to that show in Atlanta with my ex, but unfortunately, don't remember now why, we arrived late just as they were finishing…..)
With each song it seemed they got louder...layers and layers of sound, ethereal vocals buried within, just like the recordings. No, I couldn't really make out the lyrics, but somehow it didn't really matter. Colin was solid on the drums, Deb Googe was planted in front of him rocking out on the bass. Bilinda Butcher was seemingly effortlessly strumming her guitar, with her big wide curvy smile, and Kevin, true to "shoegaze" form, was focused on his wizardry on guitar. Together, in complete unspoken cooperation, they made powerful, loud, shimmering, beautiful noise. It was an exercise in the art of sound sculpture.
Very little was said between songs, except for Kevin early on several times having quick meetings at the side of the stage with one of his techs. He did, however, near the end thank us for coming out – twice, I believe – which was nice and more than other shows got, from what I've read.
They played no new material, but a good solid selection of tunes from both albums – which was just dandy with us. I was completely happy.
This is a close enough approximation of the setlist I lifted from a couple of other websites :
Only Shallow
When You Sleep
You Never Should
Cigarette In Your Bed
Come In Alone
I Only Said
Nothing Much to Lose
To Here Knows When
Slow
Soon
Feed Me With Your Kiss
and, for the encore, You Made Me (Realize)
Yes, this last included the trademark 20-minute jet engine roar. All four members of the band stood in place and furiously banged or strummed, continuously, building this incredible, layered, awesome, outrageous, bone-rattling sound. Lights were wildly flashing and strobing – blinding and sometimes coercing us to just close our eyes and give in to the sound, let it take us where it may.
Wearing earplugs was the ONLY way to really appreciate this experience – otherwise it would have been too painful. In this case, wearing the earplugs actually helped, enabled me to make out distinguishing characteristics within the wall of sound like subtle pitch and volume variations, small twirps and beeps and swirlies here and there coming from Kevin's guitar. But I stood in the vortex of whirling sound and felt it, all around me, despite being surrounded by other human bodies. It was like standing in front of a big jet engine...or inside one.
The hair on my arms felt like it was dancing. The hair on my head lifted subtly off my neck. The cloth of my dress was twitching against my skin. I opened my hands at my sides to the stage and felt the waves coming into my palms and through my fingers like tiny breezes. Several times I thought I felt something against the front of my boot, but when I looked down, nothing was there. The entire building was vibrating. My bones were rattling, my innards were vibrating.
And then I felt my sinuses draining, even though they hadn't been clogged to begin with. Wow! This was literally clearing my head. This is when I started having those thoughts about breathing in sound and the effects of sound waves on the body's organs. I took deep breaths – parting my lips - breathing it in. I thought, "This is a full body massage with sound!" It was truly a visceral experience.
I felt each pound of the kick drum as a hit of wind – literally – like I was inside of the drum itself. I was inside this sound, and it was inside me. I was united with the audience and with the band, inside their music with them as they were making it. It was like we were all participants in some sort of sound experiment. What a mind trip. I sound like a tripping hippie: "Hey, man, we were all one with the music." And look, ma, no drugs!
And then, just when you started to think you might not be able to take it much longer and if it got any louder your head might explode - it was over – by some subtle cue the band suddenly slid off the rocket ship and launched into melody again and finished the song, and then they were gone.
Um. Wow.
And to answer the original question...afterward, my voice felt like clear liquid in my throat as I applauded and cheered. My body felt pretty loose. As I left the venue and walked the several blocks through the city streets to the bus, I felt relaxed yet energized, rejuvinated. My head was clear. As long as you're wearing good earplugs to leave your eardrums out of the exercise, I guess breathing in sound is pretty good for you.
Leia Kaba
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