There was walking th’ next day; o my sweet holy YESH was there ever walking. Th’ fellas were preparing for their respective sets for th’ evening, and I wanted to take a wander to go see Calyxx at his place of employment, which was as good an excuse as any to take a Giant Stroll through a city. I do love to take oddly long solitary walks through cities – very few people ever bother me, and I get to talk to a lotta folks along th’ way, and discover all sortsa fun schtuff as I go. After breakfast in an old railcar diner, we went our separate ways, juuuuust as th’ rain started to fall.

I can find a diner ANYwhere.

Th' waitress gave me guff for not finishing a meal a lumberjack would have difficulty getting through. I love Th' Rosebud!

Ah yesh. Th’ rain. There was a lot of it, and there was a LOT of walking, which resulted in my remarkable transformation into a surly, blistered, drowned rat. There was a very big walk which resulted in no luck whatsoever (th’ people at Calyxx’s workplace were unable to figure out if he worked there, where he worked, and/or how to reach him), a very long and soggy walk back, and then a bit more torrential rain to round it all out. I was grouchy enough at this point to not fully appreciate th’ wee lunchcounter I found, but cheered up some due to sitting between two policeofficer regulars and th’ casual, familiar conversation they had with th’ be-aproned counterstaff. Sometimes, all it takes for one’s mood to improve is to slip back in time.

I didn't take any pictures that day because it was pouring. Instead, here's a hilariously misspelled sign!

Th’ good mood was shortlived, however; it evaporated once I walked out of there. I still had two miles left to walk and my feet were mangled to bits ‘n pieces. That last stretch was done mostly on my tiptoes, and I crawled up three flights of stairs to th’ apartment, where th’ fellas were putting th’ finishing touches on their sets for th’ evening. A quick change of clothing, a grim realization that I’d brought no other shoes with me, and off we went, limping our merry way to th’ show. I was cheered upon arriving to see a good friend from NYC who’d made th’ trip up for Th’ Eschaton’s birthday an’ performance, and then th’ show started and I entirely forgot about my giant blisters.

I'm a sucker for a Lowlight Crowdshot.

State Vector Collapse and Nau-Zee-Aun played one HAYLL of a show, folks. SVC does its level best to completely assault and envelop th’ audience in an ever-shifting tunnel of noise; it’s like spending 40 minutes in a haunted house inhabited by a whole host of unstable poltergeists. You can’t find yer footing from one moment to th’ next, and just when you think you’ve got it… they pull th’ rug out from underneath you and y’go sliding down th’ stairs into th’ secret laboratory in th’ basement, where things get much, MUCH weirder. Nau-Zee-Aun was having their CD release party that night, and th’ entire band was able to fit into a fairly small space and wreak havoc like no-one’s business. There is a LOT of equipment that does a whole lotta complicated schtuff, and th’ band is very intent on flaying th’ skin from their listeners’ bones. As th’ show was nearing its close, Nau-Zee-Aun invited Th’ Eschaton up to th’ stage so that he could ring in his birthday in th’ most kickass style imaginable:

WITH FIRE!

Have you ever heard someone play a metal grinder in tune? It's truly something remarkable.

They played a cover of Public Enemy’s “Bring Th’ Noise”, with Th’ Eschaton grinding away (surprisingly in tune) on Th’ Widowmaker, Deftly-D’s enormous metal noisemaking instrument. There was a wall of noise, an incessant shower of sparks, a whole lotta shouting, and good gracious me, what a helluva way to kick off one’s birthday. If you’re in th’ Everett, MA area, check out th’ Ordnance shows – they’re always an excellent spectacle. (Though I can’t guarantee they’ll all be as spectacular as this one was.)

Awwww, blurry State Vector Collapse and Nau-Zee-Aun love.

I’ve never been very “into” th’ Swans.  There was a time in highschool when I was listening to a swath of dark noisy droney music, and I dug ‘em at that point, but then… they kinda fell off my radar.  Everyone has a band or two which they become supremely obsessed with, and which has a vital impact upon their lives, and of which they will occasionally get tattoos, and becomes their go-to music for certain situations, and inspires enthusiastic conversations with strangers when th’ mutual admiration is discovered; th’ Swans is not that band for me, I am afraid.  It IS, however, that band for a whole LOT of other people, which is why their Reunion Tour Even Though They Said They’d Never Do It Again was met with much enthusiasm from folks who like their noise to be transcendent and aggressive.  Th’ Eschaton – a man who likes his noise if ever there was one – and our friend Deftly-D and I had tickets to th’ sold-out show at th’ Middle East that Friday night, and off we went to crowd ourselves into a tiny cave with a surprisingly diverse array of folks.  (There were many more younger folks there than I would’ve thought – but it was my favorite kind of veryvery oddly mixed crowd.  Gotta love a band with a Mighty Cross-Genre Impact.)

I am under 5 feet tall, and as a result, a majority of my concert experiences involve staring at people’s backs and listening to music without seeing any Stage Antics.  Th’ fellas helped me score a spot by a railing on th’ stairs, though, and I was able to see th’ entire show without being crammed into some random dude’s armpit, which was a welcome change.  We suffered – no foolin’, there was wailing and gnashing of teeth – through th’ opening band, an uber-hipster affair with Unconventional Instrumentation, who pretty much threw together all th’ more annoying/challenging aspects of Laurie Andersen’s work together with none of her charisma or sense of wonder to back it up.  It was…painful.  Painful and LONG.  There’s only so much atonal whaling on a harp this gal can take, as it turns out.  Th’ Swans came out an’ assaulted us with noise right off th’ bat.  Not too many bands are gonna give you a wall of drone for th’ first 10 minutes of a show, to be sure, and even fewer are gonna turn th’ first half hour into a crescendo of noise without launching into a song to which th’ audience can sing along.  In fact, this was th’ most rapt and anticipatory audience for whom there were no sing-alongs whatsoever that I’d ever seen at a show before.  Y’generally worship at th’ Altar Of Cacophony with th’ Swans; it’s not something that encourages crowd-wide singalongs.

For th’ first half of th’ show, I was just there.  I wasn’t feeling th’ rapt excitement that so many of th’ audience were caught up in; this band hadn’t had enough of an impact on my life for this to be as transcendent of an experience for me.  I was enjoying th’ show in a detached way, being glad I could see everyone pushing themselves and their instruments to ever-higher levels on stage.  But then…something happened about halfway through th’ show.  I went from being fairly detached to thinking about th’ times when I had been listening to th’ Swans a pretty significant amount, to a bit of a fugue state as I went back into myself and remembered all th’ feelings and reasons why I was listening to th’ Swans in th’ first place.  It was like being opened up and going back inside; I overlaid th’ torturous bits of th’ past (thanks, highschool,) alongside th’ hereandnow, and once again, th’ band worked its magic and sent us all along different paths inside ourselves.  It was like seeing a snakehandling performance, with snakes replaced with crashing waves of powerful and droning noise, but in th’ end, we were all speaking in tongues anyway, so th’ desired result was achieved.

After th’ show was over, Deftly pointed out a very old friend of mine in th’ crowd.  I am a terrible friend – I’m always th’ first to admit it, often when I am meeting new folks for th’ first time, just so everyone is forewarned right of th’ bat – and I’d fallen out of touch with him for about 6 years.  We’d had a long run of Zany Adventures but had just dropped off each others’ radars.  I still thought of him and had actually been laughing earlier in th’ night, because th’ three of us had gone to an Indian restaurant by th’ Middle East that my longlost friend had taken me to many years before.  I sidled up next to him and waited for him to finish his conversation, but he didn’t notice me; he was used to seeing me without hair, and had no idea who this random woman standing next to him was.  I finally got his attention – blank look – and, grinning, told him who I was.  Y’know how sometimes Reunion Scenes in movies or whatnot are a little over th’ top and unbelievable, and y’think, ahhh, that would never happen?  Multiply that by 7 and you have Calyxx’s reaction to seeing me and realizing who I was.  There was yelping, and falling backwards, and flinging of beer, and shouted disbelief to th’ rafters.  There was hugging and running around, and a lotta HOLY SHIT, CATASTROPHOEA!?!?  I am not normally one who revels being in th’ center of attention, but if you’re gonna have a reunion with someone whom you’d thought might’ve been not thrilled with you ‘cos you’re kinda of a bad friend, I would certainly recommend meeting up with my friend Calyxx.  He circulated me around, introducing me to people – “you don’t understand, Catastrophoea is my MUSE, I wrote a SCREENPLAY about her!” – and then brought me over to meet Michael Gira (th’ Swans’ lead singer/instigator), to say hi while they caught up for a bit.

An excellent evening all around – I saw an amazing band that, 30 years later, continues to do things however th’ hell they want to, had a bit of a Wrinkle in Time Experience, as my past self and my current self met in th’ middle of th’ noise and checked each other out, and met up with an old friend to whom I am now happily sending many texts.  It was only Thursday of our trip, and already we’d packed far more into one day than I would’ve thought possible, and had so many head-splitting grins my face was in need of an icepack.

(Sorry ‘bout th’ lack of pictures for this one – my poor lil’ camera couldn’t handle pictures in a dark cave, with bright lights, while time bent around me.  Y’know how it is.)