I went to see neo-psych duo Charalambides at Emo’s late one Wednesday night. In the correct circles, Tom and Christina Carter (now divorced and lazy, I suppose...) are a bit legendary; predating much of your free-folk by years. A band of such stature promised plenty of intrinsic attention on my part in the weeks leading up to the show but, when the night to attend actually came, I was beyond beat; barely able to stand, let alone listen intently. Such low-key music requires considerable concentration on record and even more so in a live setting. As they began their set, I wanted nothing to do with it. The dual guitar and voice set up was quickly abandoned when Christina broke a string during the first song. I was very discouraged. I love Charalambides and think they are a truly important band but I simply did not want to listen to them on what was, by now, a Thursday morning. I admit to not having heard their latest album and assumed the opening, unrecognized songs were selections from it. These tunes were fairly straight-forward for the group and I was getting ready to leave. Luckily, Tom Carter reminded me why I love him: being the only guitarist caused the man to go into overdrive. The songs turned more to ‘pieces’ as Tom’s guitar was pushed to abstraction. I knew I should be there when I realized it was 1:30 in the morning and I was watching a divorced couple play a song about receiving Jesus as soon as one wakes up in the morning over a bed of squawking, atonal guitar. The set operated as a whole and the Carters soon delved into a more characteristic sound; both the guitar and voice were lightly and endlessly droning (a compliment). Tom’s guitar slowly became not so much an instrument as a tool to create pure, piercing valleys of white noise; Christina pushed her voice far past its usual range. The twin tones were both utterly un-Charalambides and completely cathartic. Tom’s increasingly uncontrollable body movements finally ended the set when his guitar was thrown to the ground, where it popped and sputtered its way to silence. The silence persisted for a few moments as the crowd stood enraptured. Soon enough, cheers burst forth that were far louder than for any of the opening bands even though only a fraction of the concert-goers had stuck around this long. My ears were ringing; in itself a sign of an extraordinary Charalambides show.
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wes neal at 06:31 PM November 16, 2006
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