Chicago Underground Duo - Synesthesia
(Thrill Jockey)
These days the stuffy intellectualism of modern jazz has infested the once pure and grimy squats of rock
and roll. Remember back when rock and roll meant guitars, and the dudes who played them did so fast,
loud and poorly? What happened? Its all fancy art now. Now, I am not advocating a return to the
garage. After all, it should be an obvious mathematical certainty that there is only so far you can go
with power chords. But a turn towards musical proficiency with one's instrument and an education in
the theories of music doesn't mean that it all has to be a sterile theoretical exercise. The kids want to
rock! Fortunately for the rock kids, there is the Chicago Underground Duo.
For the background, the Chicago Underground Duo consists of two men and four parts: Rob Mazurek
(also of Isotope 217 and many hipster guest spots with other posty bands) on cornet and electronics
and Chad Taylor on drums and vibes. The Chicago Underground can expand from a Duo to a Trio or an
Orchestra, depending on whose playing with them This is their fourth release (second on Thrill Jockey).
For the foreground, the Chicago Underground is taking everything cool that is happening/has happened
in musical Chicago and mixing it all up together in one big witch's brew for a surprisingly potent
concoction. Best of all, they are keeping it real on the rock and roll tip: that is, they are playing like
there are no rules. The most exciting moments in rock and roll history were the ones where barriers
were broken and a new, feral sound was heard for the first time. In this day and age, when it has all be
done, recorded, and covered, many of the post rockers have looked away from their hearts and towards
their brains for new inspiration. The Chicago Underground is demonstrating that those two organs need
not be mutually exclusive.
For instance, consider the opening track, "Blue Sparks from Her, and the Scent of Lightning." Blipping
space echoes fade in, jump cut, and restart, interrupted periodically by brass warbles. Next a very old-school laconic cool jazz vibe and cornet melody moves in while the electronics fade to a background hiss
and whir. The analog jazz instruments and the electronics dance carefully around each other. After
about four minutes the courtship ends and everyone jumps up to get down. Cornets shriek and wail,
drums bop and roll in crazy rhythms, and the synthesizers buoy it all up with their own bizarre, funky
little groove. Once this theme wears itself out, it is replaced by the cornet's plaintive moan, gently
bouncing vibes and wasteland electronics. Let me tell you, that moment when it all kicks in, it's beautiful
like rock and roll used to be. It's alive like the sound of true freedom. This song alone is worth the
price of the album. Seriously, the rest of the album could be fart sounds and I'd never trade it back.
The remainder of the album never quite reaches such manic highs and desperate lows as on the first
track. However, I don't think that they are necessarily trying to. It is, after all, the only twelve-minute
epic on the album (the remaining seven tracks ranging from two and a half to seven and a half minutes)
and the rest of the songs mine elements of that same territory. In "Red Gradations" subtle
hand-played percussion supports a simple vibe melody with an Eastern European flavor, while
Mazruek's cornet bounces in and out, weaving its way through the song like a gypsy dancer. "Tram
Transfer Nine" is a wild electronic cut- up, filled with whizzes, modems, radio signals, and who the hell
knows what, resulting in the aural equivalent of a subway ride through a Nurse With Wound track.
The exceptional musicianship and obvious passion of the players makes this music work. Taylor's
virtuoso drumming is outstanding (it doesn't hurt to have seen these guys live: Taylor plays his vibes
as part of his kit set-up so he can keep the melody flowing and the beats rocking simultaneously--I
couldn't take my eyes off of him) always playing to the right mood of the song: lumbering, jerky
rhythms or smooth, shuffling rolls, he makes it all happen. For my money, though, Mazurek's horn is
the primal beast that brings the music to life: he plays it like an animal, making the brass sing and burn,
making it cry and moan.
The Chicago Underground, on Synesthesia, find the common elements between the best jazz,
the most progressive electronic music, and the free spirit of rock and roll and play like there are no
demarcations between any genres. The result is infinitely more effective than other improv or noise
experiments for at least three reasons. First, the songs do not sound like they simply let the tape roll
and started banging away, but that they only released the successful experiments, where an actual
song actually resulted. Second, the Chicago Underground seem to be less about destroying theory and
structures and more about pretending none of that stuff existed and seeing where their unfettered
imagination would take them. Third, they reject the notion that modern music must either be purely
mechanical (as a reflection of context) or purely organic (as a salvation from context) and have merged
the two poles into a musical cyborg, making it more accurately reflect the modern context: it is not the
machines that control the humans or vice versa, but the two in tandem are dependent on each other,
resulting in a new hybrid bio-mechanical entity.
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