Marika Marika Labor Of Love Tour Deep Sound Diver @ Sidewalk Cafe, NYC Saturday July 27th 2002 "Inside I find the sound of breathing." -Spencer Chakedis, Deep Sound Diver When I see Spencer play, I'm not sure, at times ,whether he's having fun or being electrocuted. His smile turns from grimace to smile and back again. He's raw with complete technical awareness. Which, in turn, give him the ability to totally fuck with the context, and throw the world as we know it on it's proverbial ear. Bouncy, good ol'funky ants in your pants music to a velvety and barely audible underground lyrical soundscape. Vocals coming out of somewhere with angry desperation, just lightly skimming the depths of the despair within him. "I was cleaning my house the other day, and I inhaled this vicious dust ball, anyway, I wrote this song." He excuses himself and his perception of what lethargy is, anyone else might not have noticed as he plays a song that is soaked in Sudafed. Anders (drums) with a bare minimum drum set and James Telfer (bass) with a pounding bass line that I can feel in my pus-*ahem, I mean privates, keep a sturdy structure to the unbridled madness of Spencer's lead. Both of their technical abilities equal to yet substantially different than that of the lead. Phil LoGerfo being the touchstone of serenity, matches the energy, reflects it then gives it space to continue in it's metamorphosis. "You've been dying on the scales, fill the bags and levy the bells." They go to extremes from one song to another. A cry at the bottom of the barrel to a barrel full o' country monkeys. Inviting Amos (Sidewalk Super Sound man) on stage to sing a friggin soulful song, transports the room to some juke joint in the Mississippi delta. I didn't know he had it in him, but I don't know a lot of things, I'm catchin'on though. "You want to hear another depressing song?" Spencer painfully giggles. Of course we do. "It's getting to be the year I o.d., ...another drowning song I'm singing from my knees to you" If I may say, depression sells. It's not that I'm thinking commercially, it's just that humans, being walking conundrums that we are, always can easily relate to the lowest and most gut wrenching common denominator. I feel this song, I know this song inside and out (even though this is my first time actually hearing it), I lived this song, and it's been written as my ( and a thousand others') epitaph, in anticipation of demise, and sometimes those dreadful thoughts come true, and sometimes they don't. It depends if you are able to hear your own thoughts or not, in time to save yourself from them. Baring their musically deft souls, they wind it up (not down) in a loud, almost completely instrumental serpentine train. Smoking hash with the ghosts of musicians and poets past, a Marrekesh "L" Express... |
SPENCER CHAKEDISreviews |
Marika Marika Labor Of Love Tour Deep Sound Diver @ Sidewalk Cafe, NYC Saturday July 27th 2002 "Inside I find the sound of breathing." -Spencer Chakedis, Deep Sound Diver When I see Spencer play, I'm not sure, at times ,whether he's having fun or being electrocuted. His smile turns from grimace to smile and back again. He's raw with complete technical awareness. Which, in turn, give him the ability to totally fuck with the context, and throw the world as we know it on it's proverbial ear. Bouncy, good ol'funky ants in your pants music to a velvety and barely audible underground lyrical soundscape. Vocals coming out of somewhere with angry desperation, just lightly skimming the depths of the despair within him. "I was cleaning my house the other day, and I inhaled this vicious dust ball, anyway, I wrote this song." He excuses himself and his perception of what lethargy is, anyone else might not have noticed as he plays a song that is soaked in Sudafed. Anders (drums) with a bare minimum drum set and James Telfer (bass) with a pounding bass line that I can feel in my pus-*ahem, I mean privates, keep a sturdy structure to the unbridled madness of Spencer's lead. Both of their technical abilities equal to yet substantially different than that of the lead. Phil LoGerfo being the touchstone of serenity, matches the energy, reflects it then gives it space to continue in it's metamorphosis. "You've been dying on the scales, fill the bags and levy the bells." They go to extremes from one song to another. A cry at the bottom of the barrel to a barrel full o' country monkeys. Inviting Amos (Sidewalk Super Sound man) on stage to sing a friggin soulful song, transports the room to some juke joint in the Mississippi delta. I didn't know he had it in him, but I don't know a lot of things, I'm catchin'on though. "You want to hear another depressing song?" Spencer painfully giggles. Of course we do. "It's getting to be the year I o.d., ...another drowning song I'm singing from my knees to you" If I may say, depression sells. It's not that I'm thinking commercially, it's just that humans, being walking conundrums that we are, always can easily relate to the lowest and most gut wrenching common denominator. I feel this song, I know this song inside and out (even though this is my first time actually hearing it), I lived this song, and it's been written as my ( and a thousand others') epitaph, in anticipation of demise, and sometimes those dreadful thoughts come true, and sometimes they don't. It depends if you are able to hear your own thoughts or not, in time to save yourself from them. Baring their musically deft souls, they wind it up (not down) in a loud, almost completely instrumental serpentine train. Smoking hash with the ghosts of musicians and poets past, a Marrekesh "L" Express... |
