Monday, September 22, 2008

microreview #3AUTOPHARPIES/ ISO12/ OTEPOTI UNDERGROUND/ MOTHER EARTH CHICKS 19TH

Port Chalmers is where it's at - again. It's almost - no, it IS exciting - there's an exciting new scene there - led and fed through the existence of that one pub - CHICKS. Last Saturday was yet another soiree. And WHAT a soiree. First up, the illustrious Toki Wilson, all wired-up and armed with colourful plastic sound toy machinery, rarotongan militant psychedelic hip-hop southern side and the harsh realities of Stafford street art-skool old-skool. Subtle, to the point of evil, Toki's Otepoti underground project, now in it's solo form, set the standard of the evening - an electronic rat-a-tat-tat.
His rhyme slick, his stage presence diminuitive yet simmering, cool incarnate.
Having coerced a friend to lend me $20 now i could truly participate in the evening. MotherEarth was act number two - Joan George on Bass, Robbie Yeats Drums and Chicks owner Hector Hazard on Guitar. This was a power-trio - violent spasms of bass flicker, like scratching Kim Gordon's eyes out, lee Renaldo at-gun-point ---- teaching sonic youth an important lesson, primordial violent slam-slam-slam. The sound like an artfully coaxed yet mismanaged war-effort. Knives and nuns. The ethyl propulsion of our divine drunken-philosopher yeats.The ancestral grin of motherearth on speed/bass/noise. 10 out of 10.
Iso 12, dunedins most dedicated electro artist was next with sytnh back up by myself (crude). Sophistry. Gadgetry. Years of refinement and ferment. Subtle brit pop/ darkwave lyric layered upon home-spun lectro beet/ minimal-tik haus-louse keys. Dance. Specialist music - embracing the one and not letting go. Top marks. Top marks. Top marks. Arm marks. Sharks. Weather. Blood. Iso 12.
But wait.....theres more. The coolest band in New Zealand. The Autoharpies. No exception. Dark brooding post-punk on ether. Sinister synthetic lines of heavily cut coacaine/sound. Super cool girls all statuesque. A drummer unrelenting and super-smooth; evil femme-beat-plastique. A steamy rifferama, subtle like a plasma. Arrogant in its utter coolness, but like as if they give a fuck. Zombiefied melodies atop dual synth/guitar raunch/paunch. A laser - a phaser. A high school blazer.
That alchemic binding together of event and sense that that top-shelf liquor can-do. Jager shots. Punch in the face. Toilet time. A lemon rind.



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