Show Review: 2 Trips to Hollywood Forever Cemetery - Dead Meadow (3/25/10) and Dustin O'Halloran (3/26/10)

by Brad Roberts

 

I wasn't sure what to expect as I bussed down Santa Monica Boulevard on Thursday, March 25, 2010, and arrived at Hollywood Forever Cemetery. I'd only heard about this show by Dead Meadow a few days before and instantly thought, "the Masonic Lodge only holds about 300 people, this show is free and I can't possibly get there before 8 o'clock...Shit!, I'll never get in". But I learned that if you pre-ordered their new CD/DVD, Three Kings, they'd put you on an RSVP list, guaranteeing admission to the show. I decided to go for it, in spite of many great competing shows on Thursday.

Arriving around 8:30, I got in line as an announcement was made that, regardless of any RSVP list, we all had to wait in line, but we were assured that we would all get in. The event was not a model of coordinated planning as only one person was authorized to check ID's, so it would be slow going. From the windows above we could hear Lantvrn playing their set and, judging from the number of us waiting in line, they must have been playing for about 12 people inside. During their 30 minute set we progressed about 6 feet forward in line. Frustration was beginning to set in.

 

Another announcement was made telling us they would delay the Dios set until we were inside and, indeed, it was about 9:30 when I finally got in. The upside was the sight of the Canter's Deli truck parked near the entrance, and a doorman who, when he checked my ID, exclaimed, "wow, you don't look it." We were also told that Colt 45 was sponsoring the evening, but that the venue limited each patron to 2 beers, so we were told to grab both and chug them for maximum effect. Most complied.

 

Entering the packed courtyard, everyone was downing their beers and the sweet smell of marijuana filled the air. I've now been to a bunch of shows here, but never saw a psychedelic crowd like this one before. Wandering upstairs to the hall, I was surprised to see all of the chairs were gone and the crowd was standing. Actually I was glad because for Dead Meadow you want to be standing and dancing, or lying flat on the ground.

 

I maneuvered my way up to the front to find the area right in front of the stage fairly empty, so I joined the others sitting on the floor, right in front of Joel Morales as Dios began. Three songs from their latest release and a reworked oldie, but goodie was all they were allowed, as the poor planning forced them to start late and end early, which seemed hugely unfair and annoyed both the audience and the band. Dios deserves better.

 

I went back down to the courtyard...to soak up a little more of the thick atmosphere, visit with friends, and get back in time for a position up front as the DVD presentation of Three Kings began. The performance area had been cleared, with the Lodge member's thrones that usually adorn the stage, pushed to either side and lots of sound equipment in their place. 

 

Across the back wall was a giant screen that extended side to side, so the full 2.35:1 wide screen video image filled the entire wall area. As the droning, sludgy sound filled our ears, the audience stared, gape-mouthed, at the huge images of Dead Meadow as they launched into the first song. The propulsive, insistent "Till Kingdom Come" flowed into the quirky, lurching beat of "Between Me and the Ground". I think the crowd was so rapt-up by the huge sound and gigantic, compelling images that we forgot the band was there until they took their places on stage. Just in time to take over the recorded soundtrack with a live performance of "At Her Open Door"

 

During this number the concert ceased to be a normal concert and entered the realm of the sublime. This is one of my favorite numbers and is, I think, a nearly perfect rock and roll song. It gave me shivers watching Jason Simon (above, at right, show photos by Audelising) keep an occasional eye on the screen behind him to make sure the vocals remained in synch with the image, but never neglecting the audience out front. From that moment on, the show achieved lift off that kept, not only the crowd, but the venue itself, floating, airborne, off-earth. 

 

Dead Meadow is only three musicians, but the sound is so huge and grand, they sound like an army. Jason's wonderful, other-worldly, weary vocals coupled with his extraordinary, often Hendrix-inspired guitar never even drop to the level of the commonplace. Stephen McCarty's (at left) contribution certainly rank as some of the finest drumming I've ever seen and is a wonder to watch when he gets into a frenzy, and Steve Kille's (below) bass provides the gravity and the glue that binds it all together.

 

But it would all come to nothing if the music itself were not so commanding. With a heavy dose of melancholy, the songs often become emotional and moving, even though that's not what one immediately associates with sludgy acid rock. And the crowd responded, becoming a helpless mass of movement, undulating arms and bobbing heads, our resistance obliterated, there was nothing to do but surrender.

 

After nearly an hour and a half of beautiful music, it was 10 after midnight, the band was still going strong, but I had to bail out and try to find my way back down to earth so I could get up and go to work. As I walked toward the back of the hall, I noticed the crowd had thinned considerably but those remaining seemed dazed and lost in a haze brought on by so much intense, hypnotic music...and other things. Some danced, some wandered, some just layed on the floor...here and there a beer can... a cup...it looked like the end of some time-warp acid test of the sixties, and Dead Meadow was still playing. I could hardly get to sleep when I got home.

 

 

I couldn't wait to get back to the Masonic Lodge the following night, Friday, March 26, to find out if the building was still there. Or maybe there'd be an open hole, where the building once stood, and radar would be tracking this weird object in outer space, kind of like the slab in 2001, except Dead Meadow was still playing for about 200 people on it's surface. Well, the place had been transformed back into it's former self and all the chairs were back. I was stunned. It was almost disorienting, the memories of the former night were still so vivid.

 

The contrast couldn't have been more pronounced as I entered the refined environment of a classical music concert, where well-dressed academics milled about, sipping wine. It was the audience for a program of indie/classical piano music, performed by Dustin O'Halloran and Hauschka, abetted by The Magik Magik String Quintet. Being a fan of the band, Devics, that Dustin formed with Sara Lov, I was looking forward to this show. 

 

But there was the opening performer to consider. Sitting there, as The Magik Magik String Quintet tuned up, I noticed chairs and harmony had been restored to the hall, along with the candles, but the faint glow of the previous evening's psychedelic frenzy hung like fairy dust in the air. Then Hauschka took the stage and created his own unique magic.

 

Hauschka is a German pianist who experiments with a tortured grand piano. He calls it a "prepared" piano, in which he has fastened to, or laid across the strings, various objects to alter the tones and reverberations of the sound. Before he began he laid a string of beads inside, I think they were metal, as they made a tinny, slightly out-of-tune fuzz of certain notes.

 

It's experimental music reminiscent of John Cage and the audience was tickled by this amazing display of playful, yet compelling art. The tunes tended to be short, sharp, and composed with great complexity. Yet there was always strong melody to keep luring you forward.

 

With his outgoing personality and gift for storytelling, Hauscska (alias for: Volker Bertelmann) was equally entertaining between numbers, recounting growing up in a small German village. He told the story of a wealthy former resident who would drop out of the sky twice a year in a helicopter, to be greeted by a limousine which ferried him to the local graveyard where he paid his respects to his deceased relation(s), only to immediately turn round and be lifted out of town, out of their startled lives. This cemetery always drags the most interesting stories out of performers when they play here.

 

One particular number I recall was the one where he emptied a bag of lightweight balls into the open piano and as he played they would leap and jump in and out of view for a most humorous effect. He was forced to return for an encore the reaction was so vehement. I am grateful for having the opportunity to witness the fine and artful performance by Hauschka.

 

Dustin O'Halloran is the gifted pianist who was half of Devics, but who now resides in Europe, and the influence on his writing is apparent. Always a composer of dark, thoughtful melody, his compositions open doors of thought and reminiscence in my head, so filled with nostalgia are his compositions.

 

I picked up his CD, Piano Solos, in preparation for this show and I was happy to have gotten so beautiful a collection of piano reveries. Gentle, ruminative songs that hint of Erik Satie or Ravel, here augmented by occasional string accompaniment, I was lost in a floating sensation the music produced. But after the long night before, combined with the dim lighting, candles flickering, and lulling music, my consciousness became sporadic and I had to leave before the performance was over. No reflection on the music, but I was emotionally drained and needed rest.