Review: EOTO & Ozric Tentacles

A lot of that energy was being expended on the other side of the red and black nylon covered brick wall by free form dancers, navel gazers and drinkers (there was a small bar roped off to one side) stirring up the early evening dust to the beats provided by the evening’s opener, DJ Afro Q-Ben. Q-Ben himself seemed lost in his own little world behind a neon lighted, fuzzy white keyboard topped by an overworked laptop riffing on a Stratocaster to the pre programmed and ever changing beats from the aforementioned laptop.

Things got a bit more interesting when Q-Ben was joined onstage by Nicoluminous; a high energy beat box loop rapper who free styled over the beat/bass combination of Q-Ben. Nico got the crowd involved and kept things lively and hopping. Expertly mouthing sounds machines have trouble making, he looped and controlled several tracks simultaneously via controls on his “Tool belt”. Having laid down the basic track, he’d hit play and pour his heart out in hip hop rhymes loyal to his home town.

At just about 9:30 Nico urged the crowd to get loud for the night’s co-headliner, Ozric Tentacles. The crowd responded in kind, cheering as the foursome made their way through the tight aisle to the stage. Wasting no time, they blasted off into a history lesson from their over twenty years together. An instrumental band, the Ozrics started slowly, noodling till they got together and ran through the jerky, almost Arabic rhythms of Og Ha Be. About halfway into Erpland, the title cut of their 1990 release, the full power of their progressive sound rang true. Mimicking Carl Palmer (Emerson/Lake & Palmer), Ollie Seagle was nothing short of amazing as he and Brandi Wynne, handling bass duties most of the night, kept the bottom end steadily interesting. With that strong a rhythm section, Guitarist Ed Wynne and Synth/bass player Vinny Shillito were free to take the audience on a musical joyride, shifting gears at will, building the tension and finally returning to the original theme, only louder and more urgent.

The psychedelic Coily had the audience howling as Shillito and Wynne went back and forth, daring and dueling, each riff topping the previous one.

They finished their portion of the evening’s festivities with a three song run of White Rhino Tea, Jurassic Shift and, as an encore, Sploosh! Much as I hated to see their set end, this was the way to do it. The guitar heavy White rhino Tea owes as much to Steve Howe of Yes fame as to any guitar teacher Wynne may have ever studied under. Jurassic Shift was just beautiful as the blissful, airy keyboard notes floated over the primitive bass/drum riffs. Sploosh! Was smooth, polished and had the pseudo power chord ending that is never a bad way to end a set.

As the Ozrics broke down their gear and toted it out to the van (twenty years and no roadies, THAT”s Indy cred), Q-Ben and Nico kept the crowd entertained with another set of fresh raps over beat box loops, supplemented with Q-Ben’s bass.

The act whose job it was to send this capacity crowd home (Yes, they had to turn people away from a free show. Is this a sign that the economy is turning?) was EOTO, comprised of former String Cheesers Michael Travis and Jason Hann. They hit the crowded stage behind a barrage of drums and keyboards, laptops, touch screen pda’s and microphones. Barely acknowledging the crowd, they concentrated on getting geared up, getting a feel for the place, it seemed. Then they made eye contact. Hann from behind a minimal drum kit, highlighted by a center mounted 18” crash cymbal. Travis in his ‘cubicle’ of assorted instruments. A nod. Travis begins with a simple, almost tribal beat on a pair of bongos. And with that simple beginning, the atmosphere for the next several hours in that industrial loading dock turned concert hall was something out of the Outer Limits. You remember the voice over “. . . the boys in the control room have control of your set.”

EOTO took control in a most unique way. With nothing pre-recorded, they create, loop, sample themselves and, where a song may begin in a certain way, no two are ever end up the same way. A totally live, improvised house/electro extravaganza, with an innovative light show that took advantage of the sheer nylon and the sparse backdrops including not one but two disco mirror balls suspended from the ceiling. There was a live painting going on off to one side, All this with a gem and mineral show/sale in the next room, with the free samples of vegan, coconut ice cream (I liked the mint chip if it matters). The cohesion between Hann and Travis pulled this entire bazaar together into a wonderful, party atmosphere that centered on their ability to read each other’s minds. That is the only way I can explain it. That or it’s that ‘magic’ I keep referring to.

I misspoke a couple inches back there when I referred to Hann’s drum kit as minimal. The kit was pretty standard by itself. Hann had augmented it with a laptop off to his right and another, touch screen version to his left, which he tapped on almost as frequently as his right foot hit the bass drum pedal. Hann was sampling himself to match his partner across the stage. All the while keeping the rhythm going, a flurry of arms, legs and drumsticks.

Travis was doing his part impeccably on that other side of the stage. Also working with two separate laptop computers, there were also several keyboards of the musical instrument variety. Guitars, a bass and several percussion instruments made up the rest of his arsenal of noise makers. And, along with Hann, he made incredible noises.

He would make the eye contact, and then one of them would do the nod. The next time the beat came around full circle, Hann would give that 18” crash cymbal a smack and they would go off onto another musical tangent, adding layers and inter weaving distorted vocal samples until they were playing a totally different song, yet still as familiar as the first few measures they began the tune with. Like the simple, Latin bongo rhythm that started the set, there was always a back ground theme they built around. But whenever Hann hit that 18” crash, it would get twisted, Travis responded with either a flurry of synthesizer or blasted power chord, which ran through the effects pedal and just flat out made you dance in place. Like I said, the boys in the control room were in charge.

And they stayed in control until the wee hours. With the aroma from the brewery across the street, the light show on the walls, the enthralling trance like state just takes over and the audience goes along. It is, perhaps the musical equivalent of a really great thrill ride. (I said really great, so quit trying to remember the name of that Michael Jackson ride that was supposed to change the theme park world in the late eighties).

I thanked a sweat soaked Jeff Weaver on the way out of the club for the great night. He was all smiles and handshakes. As I got back in my truck I noticed that the lights were still on at the totally licensed and legal poker game I had parked next to. I, just for a second, was tempted to go inside and try my luck. After all, look at the money I had saved by going to a free show, refilling my water bottle etc. Maybe I should just play one hand. But the sun would soon be coming up over this industrial little corner of Portland and I would just as soon be sleeping before it broke the horizon.