photo by Weston

Random Patterns hit the same part of my brain as half-forgotten, possibly made-up songs from the musical interludes on Sesame Street.  They’re psychedelic, but in the friendliest, most helpful possible way.  I want them to be teaching me how to count to six, in Spanish, with a crazy pinball machine flashing rainbows all over the place, and a guest appearance by Little Richard.  And at Synchronicity Space, with its slightly shrunken stage and the gaggle of mustaches surrounding it, the band’s spastic dancing and smily glow takes on a felt-covered, googly-eyed bent.  Dan Melancon’s madly flailing arms and Michael Ilves jumpy spasms of fancy footwork look sped-up; remember how amazing/hilarious fast-motion footage is when you’re a kid?  It feels like that.  Even when the music gets slow, they seem to be running at sixteen frames a second.

I know alot of people have been tossing around the word “psychedelic” in descriptions of these dudes—I mean, I just did—but they don’t have any of the cloying spaciness.  They’re of a more dusty and adventurous stance.  At the end, Chris Frias’ guitar strap comes undone and he’s left smiling, singing and holding his guitar like a rubber chicken.  If this was an acid trip, it’d be one with convulsing laughter, climbing trees and rolling on blankets, thinking you’re a dog.

Dressed in a fruit patterned shirt and pulling people in close, Speculator opened the show, fooling with knobs and buttons and electronic stuff, and making messy, excited topographies and shouting echoes into the microphone.  Alpine Decline followed, turning off the lights and guiding everyone with a blue strand or beacon, snaking around the drums, as hands make shadows around it, jumping from snare drum to synth to high hat.  They punched out miniature, epic anthems.  The single thread of blue in the dark – it was like the dark part of the ocean, with flashing hungry things everywhere and constant pressure being applied to everything.  Submarines are cool.

—Gerard Olson