ebolabuddha began our 25 minute set in the Garage (by the way, the place is quite literally a garage, with cars up on lifts and in various states of repair), freezing in the cold December air. I started off reading from a college text about Medieval heresies, which was fun. It seemed as though we didn't get a ton of audience buy in, or maybe I just didn't hear people reading. Not that that seemed to matter to me. Within a few minutes I was at the beat up NoiseHaus trap set, beating out what I felt was some kind of homage to the now departed Sunny Murray. The guitars of Steve and Lorenzo were great, noisy and out there, with Tom's alto sax scrawl up atop them and Eli's bass moves shaking below. It felt energetic, even though I was somewhat bummed about having to try to navigate a beat up, falling apart set of drums while dealing with frazzled nerves. Things stayed pretty much in this one quite jacked up sonic zone, apropos for Noise, at least in my opinion. We ended with a two minute blast beat and a manic rant from Mr. Weeks. Good times, albeit somewhat odd for me, emotionally, as I'd behaved kind of like a dick to a slam dancer in audience a bit earlier. Apologies to that dude, I just freaked out when your elbow hit me in the stomach.
A humbling evening on many levels, for sure.
Glad to have taken that ride, though.
Below: beat drums, and The Shining, which was being broadcast simultaneous to the NoiseHaus set