Instanter

from Dusted Magazine: Still Single: Vol. 4, No. 1

Boston locals who have been around forever; their name rings many bells in the back of my booze-smeared mind, perhaps even back to the ‘90s – the generation you could set your watch to. I mean, it sort of adds up, as these three have allegedly been operating in relative anonymity outside the city walls, if not intentionally, but the time and space left to the trio has allowed them to develop their own musical language, one that’s note- and lyric-dense, one that’s somewhat heavy but never anything less than GRE-prep vocabulary with the gracefulness of progressive rock filtered through the safety of ‘90s indie/T&G/Bitch Magnet/Iceburn-isms. Years in the making, Instanterplays like the trio is having a blast, though, swatting away all the belabored seriousness of many of those bands, and ultimately coming off as a hyper-nerdy amalgamation of Pitchblende, Rodan, Red-era King Crimson, and a handful of similar touchpoints. But they’re so comfortable in this zone, so conversational, that they rise above the influence into their own realm. There’s probably 100 people out there who will feel the same way, and good for the band, as they’ve only pressed up 100 copies of this LP, in paste-on sleeves.

- Doug Mosurak

from the Northeast Performer, August 2007

There are some records that you should never listen to before you’ve had your morning coffee — records that pivot so quickly, rushing you down so many different roads, most of them bumpy, that your stomach won’t be able to handle breakfast afterwards. Tristan da Cunha’s Instanter is (you guessed it) definitely one of these records. That said, once you’re wide-awake enough to enjoy the scenery, you’ll be incredibly happy you got out of bed — especially if you’re into dissonant, angular non-sequiturs, and dizzying, polyrhythmic, instrumental interplay. Tristan da Cunha is tight, unafraid of gonzo complexity, and full of fun musical ideas.

At its best, Instanter manages to weave many of these seemingly unrelated ideas into surprisingly coherent songs given the breadth of their stylistic scope. Opening track “World of Rubber” incorporates somewhere between seven and 12 distinct sections in under five minutes — all of which seem to suggest entirely different good songs unto themselves, but that somehow combine, Voltron-style, into a daunting and awesome whole. It’s prog-rock on an amphetamine binge, catching up with the last 30 years of rock music all at once, without those obnoxiously well-trained vocalists or operatic pretensions, but with just as much musicality and ambition.

On the topic of vocals: Tristan’s singer is as ambitious and inventive as the rest of the band, though due perhaps to the deliciously rampant atonality in the guitar and bass, tuning issues do plague a few tracks. And while he manages to Malkmus his way through some of these awkward spots, he doesn’t always bring the conviction to pull it off. However, more often than not, his confident delivery manages to make the group sound like a wackier, even jitterier Dismemberment Plan.

All in all, Instanter is definitely worth guzzling Folgers for, though the record would lend itself better to a freak-out at high noon. (Self-released)

- Jon Carter

from The Noise, February 2008

This is exuberating and perfect blend of dissonance and melody bundled and packaged with sophis-tication and thoughts to intrigue. Masters of the Zappa sound, Tristan Da Cunha arranges and writes songs that should be distributed world wide replacing genericy and simplicity. The record companies should seize to censor everything that's available to the masses forcing the minority to dig and search out all that is cool. As such, Tristan Da Cunha may slip through the cracks and go unnoticed. Do away with mediocrity and introduce an off-time masterpiece that is rarely found in the commercial universe and negate the brainwashing of popular demographics. Tristan Da Cunha has been one of my favorite local bands since I saw them perform Zappa's, We're Only in It for the Money, and then further iced my taste buds when they wooed me with their incredible performance of "Echoes." They have a real knack for vocal harmonies in such perfection that is rarely found in the Boston scene. My only complaint is that their sound is so unique that the songs start sounding similar.

- Leonid

Words for Snow / Tristan da Cunha split CD

from Lost at Sea

It is a sad fact that when given a split album, I will always compare one side to the other. This divided effort is no exception, marking the highs higher and the lows lower, but such is life. Here, we begin with a lull before the explosion.
Words for Snow loves Tortoise and Fugazi. In my mind, there resonates a bratty "Who doesn’t?" To be frank, their sound lies flat to knowing ears. I’ve heard it, and there is scant to delineate their effort as special. Many of the songs are long and dragged-out, with intermittent loud blasts doing little to draw attention. In a particular example of catatonic rock, the repetitive bass behind "My Uncle" spurts out in sets of threes, sounding more like my alarm clock than anything that would be appreciated in a sleepy state. When vocals infiltrate on songs like "Rome," it works against their favor – the power that lies somewhat untapped underneath their surprisingly slow instrumental work seems dashed by silly, trying bleats. Unfortunately, "Rome" would be their best track, hinting at momentum and sparkle to catch the listener off guard, but the whines and screams peppered about is entirely unwanted.
On the flipside, when Tristan Da Cunha introduces themselves, I shot upright in attention. Their vocals and instruments purposely lie unmatched, as the temporal rift never closes to anything symmetrical. They remind me immediately of El Guapo – who I admittedly do not like, but whose skittery spasms are curious oddities I can’t help but stare at from the side of the road. "Apple’s Got Sauce" is a black-eyed beating I’ve come to be proud of. "No Great Shakes" isn’t afraid to wail and let lose in glamorous struts, and by the time I have taken the bait of such sexy egotism, "Happy Playtime" cuddles my personality fully. The freak show has captured my sense of wonder, as I cave in to something upbeat, bounding on the corners of responsible, deep and fun. Once I memorize the words to this song, there is no doubt I’ll be singing it in my car, and I am surprisingly taken by what might otherwise feel atonal or bizarre.
Whereas Words for Snow’s tracks were ineffectively catered to a fan like me, whose love for post-rock knows few bounds; Tristan Da Cunha’s tracks would ordinarily shun me away, yet have a strangely captivating quality. As a result, this fits alongside so many other split CDs in my collection, where one half will get played, and the other will get lost in the cobwebs. Those who wade through the front end will be rewarded, and those who don’t make it that far will be none the wiser to what could have been.

- Sarah Iddings

from www.smother.net

EDITOR'S PICK
Usually splits have a good song or two by both bands if they’re lucky, in this case they’re the grand prize winners and have 9 great songs by the two bands combined. How many tracks are there then you ask? Nine. Yes that’s right every song on this split is a gem and worth the money for the CD by itself. You almost want to call up the record label and say "I’m sorry but you’re going to have to charge me more for that I was only really paying for a couple good songs I didn’t know I’d get more than my money’s worth". But don’t worry I don’t think The Losing Blueprint will be changing the prices anytime soon. And fortunately for the music fans out there it’s not like this album is some sort of connoisseur’s pick; there truly are songs that most everyone would be happy to hear. Words for Snow are kind of like math rock with a sense for pop’s inabilities and lacks while finding its appeal and putting that to good use. Tristan da Cunha puts together a few live songs and shows that they can do what they do in the studio live just as well if not a bit better. Great set of music for cheap!

- J-Sin

self-titled full-length

from indieville.com

A while back I reviewed another Losing Blueprint record, Fiesel's The Ruins of This Life. I praised its fantastic,angular sound and the amazing power it boasted. It was one 2002's better albums. And then the time came to give another Losing Blueprint act a listen. album. Tristan Da Cunha. Their self-titled debut album. Ooh boy.

They call it "scientist rock." Or, rather, "mad scientist rock." This, of course, because of the complicated time measures and the meticulously fine-tweaked, complex sound. And the "rock" part - well, that's because they really do rock. I mean seriously. You've all heard your fair share of "math rock" out there - lots of is just as boring as all heck. But what Tristan Da Cunha have done - well, they've mixed their complicated sound with a much more primal, thrilling style. Beneath the complexity, they attack the ears with a barrage of jerky rhythms, blasting guitar, and fine-ass melody. It's kind of like a more vibrant Faraquet.

To pick out particular tracks is a worthless exercise. The songs flow together so perfectly that, hey, "Jesus Marches With a Little Spider" and "Narcosynthesis" may have different names, and may be completely different songs, but their spasmodic, crazy sounds go hand-in-hand. Who wants to classify? This music is for listening, bitch.

And I guess that's the essence of this whole record. You listen, you enjoy, and in the end you're so friggin' fried by the music that you don't want to examine what you've just heard. You just sit up, put your finger down on the little forward-triangle, and let the speakers work their magic.

88%

- Matt Shimmer

from www.splendidezine.com

Crazed math-rock from a Boston trio evokes everyone from the Fall to the Dismemberment Plan to Superchunk. Tristan da Cunha plays an angular festival of forced-march riffs, tromping up and down terrain that changes with every measure. They build a psychotic, strobe-lighted disco where dancers fall to the ground in exhausted frenzy after trying to dance to misshapen but insistent beats. They can't help but bust stuff up, even in the slower songs, but they're using space-age radar guns, not brute force, to wreak havoc.

Most of the tracks pit the vocalist's mad spoken-word rants over the fractalized anarchy of guitar, drums and bass. Cuts like "Jesus Marches with a Little Spider" and "Too Many Boats" have a disturbing internal logic that doesn't quite map to the real world. It's a little like Mark E. Smith might sound if he hired Superchunk for a backing band and told them to put one to three extra beats in every measure.

The best tracks -- standouts include "Song Number Three", "Little White Sneakers" and "Narcosynthesis" -- are the more melodic ones, blending occasionally-syrupy harmonies with the bracing acerbity of off-balance drums and odd lyrics. "Little White Sneakers", for instance, contains an extended section where the singer repeatings the phrase "I'll push you off the mat", which makes it a song about either wrestling or some kind of weird sexual ritual -- or maybe, god help us, a little of both. Similarly, "Re: Maeve (Everybody Knows)", despite its quiet, fairly lyric opening, soon degenerates (or blossoms, depending on how you look at things) into a fast rant of "Everybody knows / The French make the best music / Everybody knows / The Swiss make the best chocolate..." The whole thing is bizarrely compelling, because the singer barks out these lines like they are crucial information, the kind of thing we will run into real trouble without knowing.

This is dance music from a parallel universe. This is poetry fresh out of an insane asylum. This is rock and roll filtered through a prism into extraterrestrial rainbows. This is not a test. This is Tristan da Cunha.

- Jennifer Kelly

from www.TinyMixTapes.com

Damn, it amazes me how strong first releases of many up-and-coming bands can be sometimes. Boston-based Tristan da Cunha's debut eponymous LP is yet another example of three youngsters writing fresh music that manages to hit you where it hurts, which is in the fucking groin. And it's relentless. Throughout its eight tracks, the trio treks through truckloads of triangular tunes that track the territorial tenants of its ilk. But this tracking doesn't necessarily imply never crossing paths. Truthfully, there's little legroom for originality, considering nearly every song criss-crosses paths with the likes of Les Savy Fav ("Song Number Three"), Dismemberment Plan ("Re: Maeve (Everybody Knows)"), Sweep the Leg Johnny ("Jesus Marches with a Little Spider"), Faraquet ("Post-Adolescent Philosophy"), etc. But what sets Tristan apart from the more well-known angular math rock bands is that they make each minute count, leaving little treats every couple minutes for sticking with them-- and it makes it all worthwhile. Periodically, they'll do something that seems completely out of sync but, in retrospect, makes perfect sense. Album highlight "Too Many Boats" is a prime example. Don't know what I'm talking about, do you? Well, listen for yourself. If this album was on one of the double D's (Dischord, DeSoto), indie rockers everywhere would be eating this shit up. However, with the few bands I've heard so far from the label Losing Blueprint, I say fuck the D.C. scene and make room for more alternative voices! Let's march!

- mr. p

from mish mash indie music reviews

Do you like noise? Louder the better? Tristan Da Cunha is your band. From the same vein of rock that started with Fugazi and evolved into Rage Against the Machine and At The Drive In, TDC gets in your face as doesn't let up until they're through pummelling you with riff after riff.
The disc opens with the unforgiving Jesus Marches With A Little Spider, a nonsense title for a track that simply knocks the senses out of you. Jumpy rhythms and dynamic swings dominate in Re: Maeve (Everybody Knows), which segues into a driving full throttle bridge about halfway through.
This album is all about the juxtaposition of quiet and sheer volume, understated guitar lines meeting the sonic onslaught of pounding drums. It's messy, but it's one lovely mess.
MISH MASH Mandate: Rock And A Hard Place

from The Northeast Performer

"I don't care about the mutant chickens!” cries the opening line of “Jesus Marches with a Little Spider,” the lead track of this self-titled debut effort from Tristan Da Cunha. It would lead you to believe that the album has the capability of being a little demented, and you would not be wrong in such an assumption. The lyrics remain abstract throughout the remainder of the album, but not quite as peculiar as the aforementioned line. I admit that I cited it mainly to grab your attention, much as the band uses it to pull you in from the start. But these songs are not simple narratives, and will take a good deal of puzzling over to understand. “Everybody knows the French make the best music! Everybody knows the Swiss make the best cheese!” Luckily, the vocals are easily palatable, from the calm crooning to the wilder screeches, so even if the oddball lyrics occasionally throw you off, it's not for very long. The same goes for the angular guitar work. There are times when the melodies are gently plucked and laid out for you, but those moments are vastly overshadowed by speedy screeches and howls. The rhythms are equally frantic, with hardly a single one of them lasting for more than a few seconds before it either erupts into a wall of noise or completely turns itself inside out and switches directions. But the album isn't quite the chaotic mess you may imagine. Songs like “Re: Maeve (Everybody Knows)” feature some rather coherent grooves that hold everything together. There are also occasional moments of downright melodic rock, but they usually don't last terribly long and are often beaten to death by the craziness that follows. In the end, Tristan Da Cunha is a worthy addition to the overpopulated “post-rock” crowd. The band doesn't do anything remarkable enough to set itself apart from the slew of comparable acts, but it doesn't let things get out of control, knowing how to rock in a crafty and intelligent way.

- Eddie Fournier

from fakejazz.com

You ever wonder why so much of the photographry on Dischord releases and in their catalogs is in black and white? I'm pretty sure color photography existed back in the late 80s when Fugazi released their self-titled album and the "3 Songs" 7". So why do both have black and white photos on the cover? Why is so much of Instrument black and white? Was it just more punk to be archaic? Or was it something about distilling the images to black and white which better conveyed the feeling of the music and scene at that time?

Fifteen years later and post-punk is having a sort of come-back, but few make direct references to all the DC bands, perhaps because Fugazi was able to stay relevant for so long while most of the British and New York bands simply came and went. Well, Tristan da Cunha hasn't forgotten about DC hardcore. They play it fast, hard, and loud, but in a completely anti-fasionable yet accessible way. Ask Tristan da Cunha about the black and white Dischord photos, and they'd read the feeling of isolation that was such a part of the underground hardcore scene of that time. Even their band name riffs off this feeling of isolation, as Tristan da Cunha is a name of an island due west from South Africa that Guiness marks as the "most isolated inhabited island in the world."

So the key question is, when I listen to Tristan da Cunha's reinterpretation of 15 year old DC hardcore, do I feel nostalgic? Do I feel and appreciate it on its own merits? Or am I just disinterested? Turns out its more of the latter. While the band has energy and a moderate amount of chops, many of the songs here use a funk-like jittery rhythmic style that mildly annoys and spoken, easily-overpowered vocals that fail to demand the listener's attention. I appreciate what they're trying to do, but I just couldn't get into it.

- Jim Steed

from The Noise

This is your basic three-guys-who-decided-to-go-buy-instruments-and-start-a-band-because-they-were-bored-outta-their-tits-and-as-a-result-have-nothing-worthwhile-to-say-about-anything-so-they-try-to-be-artsy-to-make-up-for-it-and-write-a-bunch-of-largely-unlistenable-scattershot-crap-with-awful-song-titles-about-stuff-like-Jesus-Marching-With-Spiders-and-Little-White-Sneakers-and-Too-Many-Boats-and-Narcosynthesis-and-even-something-called-Post-Adolsecent-Philosophy-(!!!)-and-do-lotsa-screwy-time-signatures-for-no-apparent-reason-with-lotsa-pointless-stop-and-start-moments-that-sound-like-they-wanna-be-fIREHOSE-and-a-cover-painting-of-something-I-think-is-either-a-bleached-corndog-or-an-ottoman-and-no-one-in-the-band-is-actually-named-Tristan-Da-Cunha-and-let's-be-as-oblique-and-indirect-and-skewed-and-indecipher-able-and-grating-and-"energetic"-as-possible-and-see-if-anyone-actually-falls-for-this-shit-kinda-record.

- Joe Coughlin

from www.smother.net

Tristan da Cunha is a threesome from Boston that announces their presence with chaotic but not obscure modern rock using loud drums and a new approach to melody. While not profoundly harmonic, Tristan uses this to their advantage with the sound that all the `The` bands are trying for now but without falling flat on their lego-inspired-videos faces. Certainly Tristan isn`t a record company`s wet dream but they`re the indie rocker who enjoys knowing more about music and philosophy than how to get out of their parents` basement is shopping musty record shops looking desperately for that clichéd disc. But hey that ain`t all that bad and neither is a handful of songs on this disc with “Song Number Three” clearly being the winner.

- J-Sin

band articles

from The Northeast Performer, September 2007

Consult Wikipedia and it will quickly tell you that Tristan da Cunha is the most remote, least accessible archipelago in the world. Among the islands in the group is the main one, Tristan da Cunha, and a smaller one, the charmingly named Inaccessible Island. Tristan da Cunha, the post-punk, noise-prog trio, like its namesake, is not easily grasped by those unwilling to invest some effort — only instead of braving thousands of miles of inclement weather, you face complex time signatures, frenetic transitions, and choppy, angular guitars. But once you’ve braved the elements, you’ll find yourself happily stuck, basking in exotic scenery that far too few are fortunate enough to enjoy. Surely this band’s name is a cunning reflection of the exciting challenge they offer their listeners.

“Actually Steve just said it and we said ‘That sounds nice’,” says singer/guitarist Ernie Kim. “I’d had the name for a while,” agrees drummer Steve “Mr. Adorable” Budney. “I thought it would fit what we were doing.”

Tristan da Cunha’s roots stem way back to the six-year-old soccer days of Kim and singer/bassist Brian Church in Somerville, New Jersey. The pair later found themselves at the same high school and, having closed the suburban sporting chapter of their lives, discovered that they shared an affinity for hardcore and metal acts. The two collaborated in various musical capacities over the years, being separated by college for a time before finally reuniting in Cambridge, where a common interest in acts like Les Savy Fav and the Dismemberment Plan once again cemented their musical relationship. But it wasn’t until one fateful Guided By Voices show where the two decided that they needed a drummer badly enough to make a flyer on the spot. Not long thereafter, Budney, an ambitious and adorable young drummer from Connecticut, picked the flyer up in Twisted Village and decided to make a phone call. Now, seven years later, Tristan has arrived at a sound that Budney describes as combining “the power of Led Zeppelin with the quirkiness of Devo.” It’s an apt description of the strikingly disparate influences at work in the band’s songs.

But such quirkiness should not be mistaken for anything haphazard. The band spares no effort in the craftsmanship they devote to their writing and recording. Their latest full-length, Instanter, contains tracks that have been around as long as five years. Mastered at Peerless, they brought it back to head engineer Jeff Lipton for no fewer than five revisions, insisting that the songs be mastered directly from their own analog tapes. Their patience has paid off, as any adventurous listener able to get their hands on a copy of Instanter will realize.

Tristan’s musical ambition is displayed not only by the wide-angle scope of their original tracks, but also by the pop-cultural pastiche of their shows. Live, they have pulled off sets composed entirely of songs by Iron Maiden, Megadeth, Judas Priest, and similarly canonical metal acts, while also being able to cover Pink Floyd, Joni Mitchell, and The Band, not to mention the entire Frank Zappa/Mothers of Invention record We’re Only In It For The Money convincingly enough to win over the die-hard freaks that were around for that album’s original release.

- Jon Carter

from SomeOtherMagazine.com

Tristan da Cunha -by Matt Parish

Tristan da Cunha are actually quite late to this interview, set to take place in my apartment at the convenient hour of noon on a weekend. The three of them are supposedly out sledding this morning, a week after the January storm that dumped three feet of snow on Massachusetts.
I have cleaned the living room and replaced the batteries in my microcassette recorder and currently wait in the kitchen, reading the latest issue of the New Yorker.
Ah, the doorbell!
In walk Ernie Kim and Steve Budney, with Brian Church following—all in their winter coats. They have conquested the snowy peaks somewhere near the city and are finally ready to hunker down with me for a chat about their band, the aforementioned Tristan da Cunha. The three of them squeeze off their wet shoes at the door, very considerate.

read the rest here!

show reviews

So, Steve Gisselbrecht writes a review of every show he sees, and he's been to nearly every show we've played in Boston lately. You can read his reviews here.

His latest review of us (and a good index of all of his reviews of us and Clickers and Night Rally):

December 19, 2004: Night Rally, Clickers, and Tristan Da Cunha at Great Scott

Oh, man. If you've read some of my other reviews (like the Tristan Da Cunha reviews here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, or here; the Clickers reviews here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, or here; or the Night Rally reviews here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, or here), then you probably have a sense of how much I love all three of these bands, and how ridiculously excited I've been about this show. I think the best thing I can say about this show, really, is that I'm not disappointed. Tristan Da Cunha are as insanely brilliant and/or brilliantly insane as ever. There is a moment in one song where I think I actually hear the drummer make a mistake--this has happened once before--but, like the other time, I turn out to be wrong. It was correct, just more complicated than I could comprehend. And as has also happened before, I notice another audience member shaking his head and laughing at one point, at the sheer improbability of what they can achieve. (There is also an odd ceremony near the end of their set, which I still don't fully understand, where we are called up onstage to receive a styrofoam model of a Stonehenge Trilithon. I am honored and mystified.)

Clickers haven't played out in almost two months, during which time they have added a keyboard to their setup and written some very cool new tunes. Now, I initially found Clickers hard to get into. Then I found that I love their songs, and love hearing them played, once I know them and can follow what they're doing. I don't know if they've gotten more accessible or I've learned how to listen to them, but the new stuff is awesome on first hearing. It's certainly not simple, but I can follow it, and it's got a lot of beauty and depth. Some of the things they do with the keyboard sound a bit electronic-percussion for my tastes--it IS electronic percussion, after all--but it's all played live, not programmed, and I can live with it.

Tonight's Night Rally set is characterized by a really high level of onstage oddity, even by Devin's titanic standards. One song finishes with him having tangled himself up in his guitar and microphone cords, lying on the stage, singing (beautifully) into a microphone dangling across his guitar, and head-butting his pedals, with Farhad collapsing on top of him as the song ends. And for all that, the song is played pretty smoothly. The audience, which has been robust all evening, is dense and fanatical now. There are a lot of problems with the cymbal stands, but Luke seems unfazed and, again, everything comes off really smoothly. They close with the airplane trilogy, and the ending of the third piece is drawn out into a long, meditative excursion; it's calming and energizing and all kinds of beautiful. This city is blessed.

And his first review of us:

from The Noise (Nov 03)
Francis Kim Band, Starr Faithfull, Tristan da Cunha, Audrey Ryan Band
T.T. the Bear's Place, Cambridge, MA
October 8, 2003
...
Truly a tough act to follow. As it turns out, Tristan da Cunha are my new favorite band. They make me think of Devo faithfully covering the double-trio lineup of King Crimson, and that's just the first song. And they're a three-piece. Fuck math rock; this is n-dimensional topology rock. I count 4, 5, 6, 7, and 8, IN ONE SONG. And, oh yeah, they're really good, too. They don't just hang on for these wild rides, they sell them. The guitarist has Sonic Youth, Shellac, and (above all) The Boredoms under his belt, and can sing a delicate high harmony at need. The bassist does most of the singing, and he's really good, with a strong voice and a dramatic style that really connects with the (scant) audience. The drummer is a finely crafted machine. And just when I think the bag of tricks must surely be empty, the guitarist and drummer switch places for the last song, and damned if they're not wild and weird and excellent on those instruments too.
...
- Steve Gisselbrecht

A review from a blog of the 19 Dec 2004 show at Great Scott:

Night Rally, Clickers, Tristan de Cunha.

Caught a fantastic triple bill at Great Scott last night - Tristan de Cunha and Clickers in support of the Cambridge Night Rally, further evidence of a burgeoning, creative DIY music scene in Boston (Allston, to be more precise).

Tristan de Cunha were onstage for more than half an hour before they came within an arm's length of 4/4 time; the three musicians prefer exotic structures and a cheerfully undanceable prog-punk style. For a band with such extraordinary chops (made all the more awesome by the instrument-switch that closes the show), the lads are refreshingly relaxed about it all; they laugh a lot onstage while tossing off lightning-quick changes of tempo and time under a cloud cover of distortion and noise. When they slowed down enough to let the mortals jump onboard, it was for delectable (and bizarre) covers of two Christmas chestnuts, 'Winter Wonderland' and the Charlie Brown Christmas Special classic 'Skating' (a jazz waltz as performed by a post-punk King Crimson). As usual for such a performance, the vocals were hard to follow, though that's probably the room's fault as much as anything; overall the set was like a shot of pure adrenaline, threatening to burst from exertion but never in danger of losing its finesse. As I put it to my friend afterward: 'Pretty much as complex as music can get that still makes me absolutely lose my shit with exhilaration and joy.' And yet things somehow improved from there.

Clickers neatly bridge the worlds of their fellow-traveller bands TDC and Night Rally. They don't quite have the opening act's formidable chops, but the two-guitar quartet brings complex musicality and tightness to more accessible music, serving as an effective lead-in to Night Rally's expansive songwriting. Clickers have been away for a couple of months, working on new material and recording, and their labours have paid off in spades: I've never heard them sound as good as they did last night. Careening through their usual stew of spacey chord changes and proggy beats, the boys debuted three new songs, each of which takes their sound outward in new directions. Electronic drumbeats and guitar textures now percolate along with their indefatigable rhythm section; the vocals are getting more varied, with yelps and crooning put to excellent contrasting effect; quieter sections space out the full-band onslaught, cleaner than TDC's punkish exhibitionism but able to bring across surprising subtleties. Clickers are a band with a future.

Overheard on the 66 bus back to Cambridge after the show: 'Night Rally. I'm not sure what it was, but I liked it.' That's not a bad way to put it, actually. The trio's most recognizable feature is singer Devin King's Frank-Black-in-The-Sound-of-Music vocal style, which commands attention immediately. But the vocals work in service of a full-band style that's two parts art-rock surrealism, one part tongue-in-cheek melodic interplay, and two parts only-slightly-ironic sci-fi major-chord bliss. The drums are crisp and complex, while aggressive bass undergirds a chiming guitar sound that goes from celestial to diabolical with the turn of an effects knob. Melodically, the Rally belt out the most accessible of the tunes played last night, and as far as the playing goes, there's an endearing humanness to the show. They're the least technically adept ensemble in the lineup (though that's no insult), but they're also the best songwriters - recent tunes have extended their very slightly poppy sound into droning post-industrial-horror fadeouts and even a danceable swing beat (under the words '...to the poison green air!' no less). The bigness of their songs is ambition coupled to real heart. (And brains: the between-song banter is about Che Guevara, Hamlet, and West Side Story.)

All three of these bands put on killer live shows, and all three are busy recording (look for a Clickers/Night Rally 12" this spring from Honeypump). If you like your rock with brains, balls, and beauty, you can do worse than these three ensembles.

[Sure I've got criticisms, by the way, but they're not worth mentioning, as they all take the form of 'Why is this a 10 and not an 11?' Ungrateful bastard.]

excerpted from The Northeast Performer (Nov 2000)
Tristan da Cunha, Longwave, The Migration Trap
T.T. the Bear's Place, Cambridge, MA
October 10, 2000

It could not have been called a typical evening, yet it was not nearly as unusual as some I've seen. It was an evening of the fiery yet comforting, the smooth and poppy yet eerie, and the downright schizophrenic. It was, above all, an evening of things which could not be easily classified. The first order of business was a disturbing new local trio who referred to themselves as Tristan da Cunha. Accusing them of schizophrenia may actually be going a little too far. They didn't spend much time playing by the rules, and there was enough insanity in their music to fill two or three looney bins, but every once in a while, without warning, they conjured up a perfect harmony, a moment of tranquility even, and there wasn't a moment that went by that the three musicians didn't have themselves completely under control. Notes, beats and breaks flew by in a flurry of clashing times signatures, and when it was all said and done, it all added up, somehow. Very nice, though not at all for the faint of heart.

- Luke Pyles