Denton, 12.9.2023

Second day of Molten Plains fest, and the opening set established the tone: a series of dreams, a night of surprises. Mattie and Melanie Little Smith used treated vocals, echo, delay, a kid's record player, and a collection of percussion and small instruments to conjure a haunting, spectral soundscape. An engaging set, but the temperature was dropping and the Rubber Room door was open to the adjacent smoking area, so as soon as they finished, I hurried to the bar for a coffee. 

I wasn't able to get any pics of Colin Andrew Sheffield due to the low light in the main room, but his orchestral audio collage and accompanying visuals evoked a European art film. It felt strange to experience such in the same room where I once stood 15 feet in front of Michio Kurihara's chained Twins (with Boris), when I was but a callow lad of 51.

Next up was the trio of Los Angeles-based altoist Patrick Shiroishi -- a grandchild of the WW2 internment camps -- along with double bass titans Aaron Gonzalez and Damon Smith. Shiroishi listened intently and timed his entrances well, giving the bassists time to find a groove while demonstrating their respective strengths, with Aaron occasionally vocalizing in a language that hasn't been invented yet. Their sounds were well balanced (kudos to Aubrey the sound tech). Shiroishi extemporised a gently lyrical close.

I'd been eagerly anticipating the guitar-heavy set by Wendy Eisenberg (Jazzmaster and pedals), Sandy Ewen (prepared guitar and found objects), and Sarah Ruth Alexander (skateboard guitar -- built by Stephen Lucas, using a deck designed by Nevada Hill -- plus vocals and Kaoss pad), brought up to a quartet by Rebecca Novak on cornet and small instruments. The confluence of elements made for a nicely intense conversation. I only wish Novak had been on mic more; her cornet was fine when audible. Just part of the fun of live performance. There followed a brief intermission while the stage was reset.

Any time I see something I don't understand but I know it's real, I call it magic. Percussionist Sean Meehan's set falls in that category. Meehan set up his tools -- a single snare drum, some cymbals, a couple of forks and what looked like a barbecue skewer -- away from the stage, in the middle of the audience, "because I like to get close." He began by drawing the fork tines across the drumhead to create sounds that one might have thought were electronically generated. Then he took each of his cymbals in turn and, setting them upside down on top of the drum, placed one end of the skewer against the surface of the cymbal and slowly and repeatedly ran his hands down its surface. 

The resulting steady tone sometimes swelled in volume, sometimes split to add another tone, and sustained as long as Meehan continued the motion. His only other action was to open or close the drum's snares. Someone (who might have been Louise Fristensky) said he had rosin on his hands, which would make sense; not having to grip hard would give the wood more ability to vibrate. When I asked Meehan how it worked, he said, "I don't know, but it depends a lot on the room I'm in." The most amazing thing about his performance, however, was the silence and attention of the audience. A moment of focus and clarity.

Perhaps the weekend's most astonishing performer was Mexico City-based extreme vocalist Carmina Escobar, whose sound world has included the classical canon (whose male, European focus she rejects), black metal (she fronted an ensemble while studying at CalArts), and body resonance work (Sonic Massage). In a trio with Dave Dove on trombone and Joe McPhee on tenor, she employed gasps, shrieks, guttural noises, and glossolalia, along with the weekend's best demonstration of microphone technique. After last night's bravura performance with Zoh Amba, tonight's McPhee was a paragon of deep listening and empathetic response. A stunning set that even a passing train and racing hotrods couldn't derail.

As Aaron Gonzalez observed, the most "straight ahead jazz" moment of the weekend was provided by Trio Glossia, a new (their second gig) unit led by Aaron's sibling, Stefan Gonzalez (vibraphone, drums), with Joshua Miller on tenor sax and drums, and Matthew Frerck on bass. 

I first encountered Joshua playing drums with the Fort Worth psychedelic rock outfit Same Brain. At an outdoor event at Lola's (RIP) a few years back, I remember seeing Same Brain and telling Frank Cervantez, "These guys would be perfect to hear in a muddy field in England back in '71 if we were tripping balls." Meant it. I discovered Joshua had taken up sax when I saw him in a duo with Sarah Ruth Alexander at the Grackle Gallery last year. Not long after that, I was going to a Sounds Modern show at Fort Worth's Modern Art Museum when I heard someone blowing sax inside Richard Serra's Vortex, the giant sculpture outside the museum. It was Joshua.

The three musicians have been writing tunes and getting accustomed to playing together. Stefan is a hard-swinging dynamo, and it's great to hear him on vibes, which he played a little in Yells At Eels with Aaron and their father Dennis (RIP), and a lot more with The Young Mothers. Joshua's jazz trap chops are developing, but his relentless energy and enthusiasm give the music a lift. On tenor, he's blowing energy music like it was 1967 again (one of this tunes is a dedication to Joe McPhee). Matthew Frerck is the glue that holds them together, playing inventive transitional solos while the others switch between instruments. A friend's teenage nephew attended last night's concert. When I asked what his favorite performance was, he said without hesitation, "The one with the xylophone." I look forward to watching Trio Glossia grow together.

After some closing remarks from Ernesto Monteil and Sarah Ruth Alexander -- who, together with sound tech Aubrey, recordist Stephen Lucas, and the Rubber Gloves staff, made this magical weekend happen -- the grand finale was provided by Austin drone rockers Water Damage (motto: "Maximum Repetition Minimum Deviation;" sort of a grungier version of La Monte Young's Theater of Eternal Music), augmented by Wendy Eisenberg and Jonathan F. Horne on guitars, Patrick Shiroishi on sax, and Joshua Miller on drums. 

I know I'm going to be high from this wish fulfillment event for weeks. A few observations:

1) Live music beats recorded music every time.

2) Joe McPhee is a national treasure. Bless him. Zoh Amba is a worthy acolyte, and farther along on her quest than I thought. (That's what happens when you only know an artist from recordings -- you're always a year behind. At least.)

3) Wendy Eisenberg is my new favorite guitarist. I'm a Hendrix-era dinosaur, so their vocabulary and syntax are somewhat alien to me, but Eisenberg's improv approach is the freshest thing I've heard in years. Listening to their The Machinic Unconscious on Tzadik while typing this confirmed it. Eisenberg even found interesting rhythmic/melodic/textural things to play against Water Damage's repetition. And that's not all they can do, either.

4) Sean Meehan and Carmina Escobar are magicians.

5) I need to hear more of Patrick Shiroishi and Sandy Ewen.

6) Trio Glossia is the North Texas band to watch.

7) A mighty fine time was had by one and all. Can't wait till next year's fest!