one year passes...
dimmer with the undercurrents, at the jetset lounge, may 1st 2004 [review i slung together yesterday..]
"at the tail end of the seventies the enemy played at our school dance. chris knox was the evilest person i'd seen. from the start i was dreading the moment he might come off the stage, and, like, tap me on the shoulder or something. i thought i was punk but inside i was cowering. thank god they only lasted two songs before school principal dave rathbone ran onto the stage and kicked them off."
shayne carter - taken from a history of bored games taken from 'mysterex: kiwi punk and beyond'
i've been a fan of shayne carter and his scene-defining bands since high school, when i first saw a soon-to-disintegrate straitjacket fits take the stage around the time
cat inna can was a student radio hit round our way. back in those days, carter was almost as intimidating (at least in stature and prowess, if not in glower and more
physical elements / tendencies) as his idol chris knox was back in the heydays of the enemy. thankfully, i was prepared this time round, accidentally catching carter directly in the stomach with my elbow as he made his was through a bustling and genuinely excited christchurch crowd. we'd later joke after the show that the jab got him going - the kind of incident he needed to play a stellar show. but i somehow doubt it.
in a matter of 3 years, carter has refined his showcase into a harmonious ode to stage-performance and james brown stylized presentation. an extremely talented cast of seasoned professionals as a backing band, matching uniforms and a backup singer with a higher profile than his own - though anika moa still presents herself as a local girl. jokingly, carter issued an ultimatum to stage left, bass player mike hall (of pluto fame) that moa was in charge of between song banter, and he should remain tight-lipped, but carter is hardly the hard-nosed ringleader the godfather of soul presents himself as. joking, playing to the cameras and a democratic approach to instrumentation ruled the roost on
this saturday night.
starting the show after a lengthy wait (those of us not quick enough to scoop pre-sales were left queuing some 2 hours before the shows determined start time), the undercurrents played a rousing, if not show-stealing opening set to an ever-growing, and eventually converted crowd. evolving out of low-key local popsters the centre will hold, the undercurrents hit the nail on the head with their name, they sound like a wash of guitar, with bass flowing freely beneath. a triple-headed 4-piece, who employ guitarist marcus winstanley's talents with production and electronic elements in their recorded output - forming a connection with winstanley's former troop barnard star, sure contenders for new zealand's most unfortunately overlooked great bands. on stage however, its all-grooving rhythm of the twin guitar, bass and drums variety. though mixed low, their 3-vocalist approach to singing add texture and harmony to an already highly melodic guitar-based sound. look out for their debut ep, recently self-released.
believe me when i say you've never seen the open-a-beer-bottle-with-a-lighter-trick pulled off as fast as the dimmer stage management does it, the crew paving the way for the band to hit the stage. the crowd was quite excited, bubbling even. despite the fits playing a large portion of their shows in the garden city during the 90s, christchurch has only seen mr carter once since going solo, a wonderful show in this very spot at the launch of 2001's
i believe you are a star. looking like a real showman, dressed to the gills in a sparkly, nah
spangly velvet and rhinestone suit-jacket, carter and his troupe of black-suited backing players clambered aboard the small jetset stage, and immediately the funk hit the fan.
carter's guitar spends most of the show low in the mix, with ned ngata commanding attention with his wah-wah heavy funk guitar at the forefront. its all chick-a-chick and slippery bass from mike hall, propelled by the powerhouse of the group, willy scott (of sola rosa and king kapisi's live crew) on the drums at the back. key fluttering from top session-man andy 'submarine' morton flows in and out whilst carter and stage-right anika moa face the group with restrained, soulful vocals.
the crowd get-up to get-down. crowd favorites like
evolution flow with such propulsive urgency and effortless funk that you'd think the band were born to groove.
without the layers of feedback frenzy i was accustomed to taking in shayne carter extravaganza's, you suddenly have the chance to observer carter as a pure entertainer and his most visual faculty, strangely enough his upper-lip. during funky riffing so tight you could mistake it for the album recording, carters lip quavers and flexes, mesmerizing the front row with dexterity - almost a show in itself. he bounces round the stage; playing to the audience and finding just the right pose throughout every quite-phase in the gig. the backup-crew start taking on their own persona's - hall is the young chap, the fresh-faced steady-man of the group. andy morton hovers over his keys pulling faces and occasionally conversing with willy scott, pounding away like soul brother number 2 as the funky drummer, and raising a sweat doing it. ned seems to be engulfed in the sounds eminating from his amplifier, his eyes rolling around like a man possessed. anika's performance is light on theatrics, quietly strumming away on acoustic guitar during a couple of songs, and adding an understated glee to the pouty (funky too-cool) facial expressions of the rest of the group.
drop a couple guitars and suddenly carter takes over,
drift sounding thoroughly bombastic with just carter, scott and morton in action. an electronically laced, but purely guitar-formed instrumental from the first album, and the first notion that perhaps dimmer haven't quite dropped the huge guitar sound that first surfaced on the original
crystalator single just yet. the crowd is ecstatic - not you're usual reaction for a vocal-less piece, but then dimmer instrumentals are hardly filler, more so an exercise in pushing the boundaries on the motorik (aka can, neu! etc) or maybe post-rock (mogwai, hdu etc) approach to song composition. a purely ethereal wall of sound, carters guitar envelops the room and maintains everybody shaking with a pulsing heartbeat of a groove.
from then on the crowd was entranced, drunken squalors from the bar-side patrons requesting said debut single are laughed off by a vibeing band, refraining back to the funk at their core of their set. the jams get heavier and dirtier; scott showing off behind the kit with some truly massive breaks and ups the ante for the front of the stage to attempt to counter. at the close of the main set, carter plays the trump cards, rousing renditions of
drop you off and the apocalyptic climax, an over 20-minute show-case in the form of first album single
seed. astonishing; its the kind of track were the audience gets as tired as the band, and by the end of this mammoth number willy scott was literally dripping with sweat - so that's saying something. carter's guitar sounded like a thunderstorm. i felt shock waves running through my body as the band wore on, taunting the crowd with a never-ending 1-chord groove. absolutely pummeling bass, pile-driving me right from the outset, the sound just grew and grew with carter flying off into short-burst of snake-tongued guitar and angular solos, disguised by a wall of feedback and the ethereal pulse, they just couldn't stop.
leaving the stage to a frenzied audience, the band re-emerged to complete the night and yes,
crystalator was played; the particularly vocal reveler rushed the stage as its distinct tom-heavy drum and delay-punctuated guitar emerged. carter has such unlimited control of the guitar, and his backup so tight - i could hardly imagine this touring version of dimmer putting on a bad show. from outset to the end of the onslaught, there wasn't a disappointed face in the crowd; i just hope we won't be waiting too long before our next visit from that intimidating character, shayne carter.
― chris andrews (fraew), Tuesday, 4 May 2004 03:47 (nineteen years ago) link
two years pass...
three years pass...
three months pass...
one month passes...
nine years pass...
three years pass...