Gramercy Theater
3may2015
I went to Gramercy Theater to see Hiatus Kaiyote this last Sunday, not knowing what to expect; although I had heard a few of their songs, I was otherwise completely unfamiliar with the quartet. What I did not expect was the massive turnout; the line of bodies wrapped around the block of the Gramercy Theater and stretched off into the distance, beyond sight. (This is not hyperbole, as my glasses have an outdated prescription.) As Jessie Branch and I waited in line, it became clear what kind of audience Hiatus Kaiyote had drawn in; those around us were all talking about music--- about making music, attending rehearsals, and assignments for Advanced Music Theory class. The Hiatus Kaiyote fans standing in line with us were not just music lovers--- they were musicians, and this fact gets to the heart of what is so spectacular about Hiatus Kaiyote: they are creating a new space of innovative and complex music that ensnares the attention of educated musicians in a generation that is completely surrounded by a flood of catchy, easy-to-memorize songs that don’t challenge the listener.
A shout rang out from the front of the line, signaling the opening of the doors. The mass of young musicians crowded into the theater, filling up the large standing-area with shocking speed. Jessie and I were able to claim our places in the third “row” from the stage, where we impatiently waited out the next 45 minutes for the show to begin.
Phony Ppl, a 5-man band that combined super-funky bass, plucky guitar and backing percussion with two very different vocalists; one vocalist was a melodic singer with an beautifully controlled and smooth falsetto, while the other was a straight-up hip-hop lyricist. The dichotomy of the musical influences made for an energetic and interesting opening band. It was apparent by their demeanor that the band was not accustomed with playing to such a large and enthusiastic crowd, resulting in an gratefully-delivered performance driven by bolstered appreciation, which endeared them to me. I’m sure you’ll be hearing about Phony Ppl in the upcoming years.
In order to pacify the massive crowd completely filling out the sold-out show, a DJ played from a podium in the back of the theater between sets. I didn’t catch the DJ’s name, but she had serious skill; I did my best to dance and groove along with her beats, but I was forced to reign in my moves after I realized that the people packed in around me were not appreciating being bumped by my gyrating body. The audience was so large that, despite both of us desperately needing to use the restroom, Jessie and I both decided to wait until after the show, as we knew that the next set would begin soon, and we didn’t want to lose our places so close to the stage.
The DJ let her song fade out, the stage-screen went up, and out walked the four members of Hiatus Kaiyote to a deafening roar of applause and cheer. At the beginning of their set, Nai Palm, the leading vocalist and guitarist, was having issues with her instrument, and the first song was aborted. Despite this rough beginning, Nai decided to jump on the keyboard instead, and a new song began, this time fully captivating the audience in the spell woven by the musical communion of the band: Paul Mender ripped his 5-string bass with blinding speed and skill; Perrin Moss’s incredibly complex beats, that changed time-signatures so regularly that I almost didn’t know how to dance along, kept the band grooving together; Simon Mavin played his synthesizer with eerily-beautiful ease, sometimes using his voice to add to the multi-dimensional melodies; in the spotlight, enthralling everyone with her vocal control and range that Ella Fitzgerald would be envious of, Nai Palm wove a glorious spell over it all. For a while, time was forgotten.
What is it about Hiatus Kaiyote that makes them such an incredible band? The answer, like their music, is multi-dimensional and difficult to pin down with words. It has something to do with the lack of conformity to the form of popular music, which is reminiscent of wild and free-moving jazz; there is both beauty and dissonance in the melodic and polyrhythmic songs that feels precious, raw, fragile and yet forcefully fresh; the poetic lyrics take inspiration from unexpected and spiritual sources, including mountain ranges, ceremonial masks, woodsmoke and dreams; there is a sense of going boldly forward into a place where no one had before thought existed. All of this results in an completely original music that takes the listener on vast and wild adventures though the infinite thoughtscape of the mind, blowing one along on wind-currents of stardust that shift from one plane to the next, shifting and dropping one without warning, only to be caught by a warm and enfolding gust at the last minute.
Hiatus Kaiyote is making music that has never been made before. Yes, a critical reviewer could take apart the components of the band to be sectioned off and labeled, and in the end they could point to these isolated parts and say: “This part came from jazz. This piece is electronica. Here we have funk and rock, and here (pointing to the dissected vocal track) we have definite specimens resulting from jazz, blues, opera, and… what we could only describe as animalistic howling.” All that I could to such a sterile and ill-advised experiment is this: these parts have never come together in this way, with such creativity and complexity held together by overflowing passion and raw talent. I would say that the reviewer is missing the point entirely; the purpose is to experience, and Hiatus Kaiyote is the most original and one of the most worth-while musical experiences I have ever had. Their newly released album, Choose Your Weapon, is available for purchase, and I cannot urge you more strongly to go and experience it yourself.
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