Black Moth Super Rainbow @ Rock and Roll Hotel
Written by DCist contributor Matt Siblo
After the projector screen went down at the Rock and Roll hotel on Sunday, an inconspicuous video blogger rattled off a loose-tongued diatribe about a band he saw open for MGMT with a “really, really stupid name” who he pointedly described as “unbearable.” He recalled the lyricist singing songs about the alphabet and counting through “some robot voice” sounding as if “they are making music for printers.” Then the band in question, Pittsburgh’s Black Moth Super Rainbow, quickly emerged.
Whether the clip’s vitriol was fabricated or the result of a genuinely unsatisfied customer of the band, its humor stemmed partly because his exaggerated descriptors were vaguely on point. Black Moth Super Rainbow play a syrupy, synth-heavy spin on psychedelia, dripping with pop melodies sung through a vocoder (read: robot voice). Its album art features surrealist, hallucinogenic imagery. Band members have adopted Manson-family like pseudonyms (Father Hummingbird, Power Pill Fist), while song titles (“Spinning Cotton Candy in a Shack Made of Shingles,” “American Face Dust”) are even less lucid. BMSR’s oddball tendencies have led to something of a mysterious reputation based on things like releasing limited edition “hairy” versions of their albums and performing in masks. All of this kitsch could relegate the band to hallow spectacle, but BMSR’s songs rise above the novelty.
The band took the stage only to be hidden by its own multimedia presentation due to an unfortunate logistical placement of the Rock and Roll Hotel’s screen — not an intentional, Oz-like cloaking. The fact that Tobacco (the singer) sang crouched on the stage while a masked dancer in a fur suit moved amid the crowd only added to evening’s partially obscured spectacle. Opening with “Born on a Day the Sun Didn’t Rise,” the lead single from its recently released Dave Fridmann-produced Eating Us, the set was dominated by new songs along with those from 2007’s breakthrough, Dandelion Gum. The Troma-esque scenes of bludgeoning and clips of cringe-worthy cable access were a playful (depending upon your disposition) juxtaposition to sunshine-heavy tracks like “Forever Heavy,” “Melt Me,” and the appropriately titled “Sun Lips.” By the set’s end, the good time vibe (and its costumed cheerleader throwing candy) proved infectious, whipping up the crowd into a rousing celebration culminating in the entire front row on stage for dance moves and appreciative hugs.
Opening the show was Dan Friel, better known for his work within Brooklyn’s criminally underrated noisemakers Parts & Labor. In his solo work, such as last year’s Ghost Town, Friel creates bite-sized instrumental anthems that forge melody from skronky electronic beats. Perched on a folding chair with his keyboard and pedals illuminated with Christmas lights, Friel swiftly banged his head alongside the homespun junkyard noise. While songs like “Ghost Town (Pt. 1)” and “Desert Song” are in the same key of P & L, his surprisingly lively set also included improvised sonic excursions both ambient and pulsating.