The final act of Saturday’s Noise Pop Festival edition, Memory Tapes mustered enough interest and energy to bring out the irritable side of the crowd, even at close to 1 in the morning — and one that was the angriest we’ve seen so far at the festival. Which was great for a change, because there’s nothing worse then a bunch of half-asleep festival-goers and drugged-up hipsters nodding off to the latest in experimental music. And with the eccentricities behind “Swimming Field” and “Green Knight,” The Tapes showed that even some of the most peaceful and soothing music doesn’t make for much of a peaceful crowd.
A two-man musical timebomb, the boys played to a syncopated backtrack, which means they relied heavily on pre-recorded synths (though how they managed to stay on top of things is pretty amazing), starting out with a sprawling, uber-melodic dance between guitar and drums before breaking into some weird time signatures. Thus there were the requisite confused looks from some in the crowd who were there more for the pop than the noise, and the adoring eyes of others, there to worship at the altar of post-prog goofing. A slideshow of 2-D animated patterns crisscrossed over singer Dayve Hawks, who seemed at times like he would have rather been anywhere else. Maybe it was that sort of general “I Don’t Give a Damnedness” that is so fashionable for frontmen these days. What makes Memory Tapes so damn listenable is their knack for searching out the catchiest rhythms they can, while making them as complex — and often times, as heavy — as they can. Whatever it did, it made the stillborn patrons of Bottom of the Hill come to life with a howl and applaud every song.
Glenn Williams, who was snapping shots, was threatened more than once just for trying to get a decent shot (see our Tempo No Tempo Noise Pop post) and was human-sandwiched between, just, rather suspicious chaps. And while you’d think the sort would constitute a sort of raucous, crazy, slam-dancing/stomp, many just seemed to stand still with their fists clenched. Simmering. Either waiting for the detonation blast, or at least for the bomb squad. Chances are, when you listen to The MT, you’ll just want to take a nap and dream — this is entertaining, semi-epic stuff. It just seemed rather difficult for some people to relax. If only we could have carried that cloud over with us from The Independent, maybe it would have helped.
Words by Jeff Nau, Photos by Glenn Williams
