No Fun Fest 2009. H1Night2.

Pulse Emitter: Will oscillating wonders never cease? Not when they're done this well. Penetrating from the inside out, and then flung out into space, stretching themselves into the Eternal Howl. And as good an ending as any of those early New Order 12"s. Space OM.

Mattin: I saw a Johnny Cash interview one time when he was talking about one of the prison shows. Cash was student of the dynamics of crowd control, and he spoke about how, if he had wanted to at any given time, he could have at certain moments shouted, "Break!", and that's exactly what would have happened. This was just that, but without the control. I'm actually going to have to update this entry later, there was so much going on here. Serious. Very, very serious.

Yellow Tears: I love all the recordings I have by these dudes. When they stepped on stage I realized that they were the same insane muscle freaks I had seen play at Cake Shop a couple years ago. Totally comfy headbanging to the manipulated sound of rain. Blowing out the full-on noise torrents but never going as far as the audience wants. Holding back. Pitching forward into unexpected corners of filth and disease. Heaving and believing. Abstract violence. Good fun!

Sons of God: Passion play. When Paul Bowles was asked what advice he would give to any young writers his immediate response was, "It only gets worse." Directed noise with performance. Also going to have to update this part of the post later. Much on the wire. (BONUS: There's a guy I've been seeing at galleries here and there for over 10 years. Always looked like an interesting chap. Never knew who he was. Now I know. He's a Son of God. Awesome.)

Blank Dogs: Driving and focused set. One arrow after another. Straight shots.

Pedestrian Deposit: Most thrilling set of the fest so far. Even the dillweeds* in the audience were quieted by the end of this. Pedestrian Deposit explores and exploits the frayed edges of sound and texture, wherever they find them on the spectrum. Moving with aplomb from penetrating high ends to heaving silences pulled back from the edge of explosive noise and percussion and then off to the final gorgeous tones of the cello. Soft landing. Everybody in that room knew that something special had just happened. Me, ecstatic. It was time to go.

I hadn't planned to stay for Bardo Pond or Sonic Youth, but I decided that I'd also give up C. Spencer Yeh/Rafael Toral to end the night so perfectly. Trust me. I know what I'm doing here. Perfect. Gone.

*I'm always mystified by the dillweeds who come to shows for no other reason than to be able to say that they came to the show. These same people tend to talk about work with their friends while bands are playing. Let me send this idea out to them: Take it to the bar, assholes.

No Fun Fest 2009, Night 1.

No Fun Fest 2009, Night 3.