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Rating: I had set off with different intentions, namely not to write anything about it, but the live Ceremony made me change my mind quite quickly and, above all, since Saturday night I haven't been able to get the obsessive and compulsive repetition of the word sicksicksicksicksicksick out of my head placed everywhere. Serious problems. The only thing is to tell you how in the Echo Park area, thanks to the FYF organization, there was the release show party of the Rohnert Park group and their new "The L-Shaped Man" which, in California, is somewhat on everyone's lips. Obviously, I'm not referring to the cozy living rooms of Brentwood, but what I discovered (quite naively about the situation) is that the band led by Ross Farrar is nothing short of revered here. Okay, they're playing at home, they're Californians (although NoCal, not SoCal) you might say, all true, but the excitement with which people queue outside the Echoplex is already quite electric in itself. Arriving around 8, in time to hear some Mexicans playing la cucaracha in Echo Park, following the thousands of ants on the sidewalk, (no, there's no hipster metaphor, there were just a thousand damn ants scattered everywhere) you queue up with the well-recognizable 21+ wristband among the myriad of sleeveless shirts, patches, T-shirts ranging from Amebix, Germs, Judge to more recent acts like Punch and Comadre. The reason is well explained by the line-up, a mix between old and new school, as the Ceremony themselves will say more than once during their show, indeed accompanying them are the Negative Approach of Mr. John Brannon. Ah, yes then there are two other bands: Mrs.Magician and Gun Outfit. Here we should open a parenthesis and since it is always a live report, I open it, but in the next paragraph, come on.
What to say about Magician, their background is certainly interesting, they record for Swami Records by John Reis. Their works are produced by him. They come from San Diego just like Drive Like Jehu, they have that bit of a carefree mood, not at all committed, made of flannel shirts, glasses straight from 1985, and surf until sunset. What they have to do with the evening is beyond me (Farrar would scold me saying that the bands were personally chosen by Ceremony) since we are dealing with a sort of garage rock, a bit lo-fi, a bit punkish, pleasant and, perhaps, along with the Gun Outfit it is the most sought-after proposal of the gig, but precisely, it is a live where the audience asks and wants much more, especially when impatient, they know they have to wait an hour to see the stage shredded by Negative Approach. However, I do not mind the sound of Mrs.Magician at all; it has a nice pull, they play with effects, with delay, they have fun and bring home a handful of convincing applause, even from myself who does not have this sound in my strings. I'll check back on Bandcamp, okay. During the stage change, I meet a photographer girl I met at the Loma Prieta/Pianos Become The Teeth live who doesn't have a clue what to expect from the two main acts of the evening; I simply tell her that maybe those barricades placed there between stage and audience won't hold out for long and for the shots it's better to show off the best teaching of capturing the decisive moment and run away before the reflex gently goes tumbling down to the ground. No, I didn't really make the bressonian citation. Ah, but first, there are the Gun Outfit. What to say pt.2? Even more lo-fi and psychedelic (perhaps?) than Mrs.Magician, even more gigantic what the fuck during their set. Poor unfortunate souls, too. After a very rapid soundcheck, for the entire half hour, their lead guitar jumps multiple times. I'm sorry for them. They were already not in an easy situation, but if on top of that the equipment abandons you, it’s really tough luck. With smiles on their faces and gritted teeth, they effectively close, gaining some approval and perhaps sympathy points for the misfortune they had with the audience now begins to chant Brannon's name. Things are starting to get serious.
Let me just say one thing: I hate the freaking barricades. You’d say it's stupid of me to always put myself in the front row, but when the crowd (I'll find out at the end of the evening the show was sold out) starts pushing as soon as you glimpse a shabby Ludwig taped and bandaged with duct tape forming the initials "NxAx" you begin not to breathe at all. And the concert has yet to start. Do I need to say some presentation words about the group from MoTown? Living legends would suffice, come on. I don't care a lick about the historical reunion talk, blah blah blah, what's the point, just seeing a furious John Brannon appearing between a curtain of smoke and blinding white lights is enough to make me happy. From 1981 with love, class of '61, but with the anger in his body from when he was still twenty years old creating one of the first examples of American incendiary hardcore punk. The setlist is a crazed machine gun spewing bullets with a bone-crushing speed for my poor bones. The sing-along, crowd-surfing begin and Echoplex security struggles to contain attempts to trespass into the stage area. Violent mosh pit at the back, strong waves in the front row, well blending with the rhythms thrown down in rapid succession, with a sharpness worthy of the good old days aka the eighties. Brannon continually incites with his CH-CH-CHECK IT OUT and the answering choruses make NxAx gain even more strength and vehemence. The 30 minutes pass like they were 10, and in the meantime, I've already said goodbye to my lips. Olé. Rousing, well-deserved applause and now everyone is ready to dive into the Ceremony.
At the beginning, I said that this show was supposed to be about "The L-Shaped Man" so, mistakenly, I had this idea that the Rohnert group would focus on imprinting as much as possible in the audience's mind the post-punk shift that already began with "Zoo". Good old Nando Martellone approaches me saying: esticazzi. The great chief Estiqaatsi is indeed the master of the evening for Ross Farrar and Anthony Anzaldo's creation show. Have Ceremony on Matador become unnatural? Estiqaatsi. Is the Cure - Joy Division - The Chameleons - Whatever revival derivative and useless? Estiqaatsi. I still don't know what kind of album "The L-Shaped Man" is after this concert, I can tell you that "The Party" live is an awesome track with a not inconsiderable hail of adrenaline. The beginning is subdued, almost intimate and...fucking deceptive, because after pretending to be the tormented post-punk singer in "The Separation", Ross gets off the stage, climbs the barricades, and yells: "this is for the hardcore fans" and from "Violence, Violence" plunges back into "Kersed", further destroying the barrier of exaltation set pretty high by Negative Approach earlier. Precisely: burn to the fucking ground. There's no going back and I who thought I would enjoy the post-punk turn find myself plunged back into a classic hardcore punk concert without finesse, limitations, restraints. Just a lot of frenzy and on stage the Ceremony are exceptional conductors in this. Farrar looks like a possessed Iggy Pop, shirtless, he throws himself to the ground, returns in the middle of the audience, throws the mic. Anzaldo (lead guitarist) tears his shirt off, straight edge tattoos in full display, and on the riffs of "Open Head" taken from the album "Rohnert Park" plays practically on my head, also largely ignoring the barricades. In the front row, you're crushed, and the tracks from "The L Shaped Man" serve to take a quick breath of air drenched in sweat, although the verve remains very punk and not post/dark wave at all, quite the opposite. The adrenaline never stops flowing, there's time for a Dead Kennedys cover announced with "We are from fuckin' California" and well, I'll let you imagine which track was chosen. The powerful sound system of the Echoplex allows for a annihilating and heart-wrenching performance that reaches its climax in the concluding "Sick". Obsessive, irreverent, I didn't understand a damn thing anymore. I saw guys gliding from the stage, I remember it because I have a Converse mark on my forehead, barricades down to the ground, and a hectic mob converging on Farrar who yells with his last forces the repetitive chant that makes Sick the anthem of Ceremony. Amen.
The distortions calm down and the DJ set curated by Wes Eisold (yes, that one American Nightmare/Cold Cave) returns to invade the Echoplex. It's a nice sound, certainly not the crap served in certain venues in Italy in dj rock/metal/punk set. My goodness. I grab the T-shirt "Sick of Living in America" and head into the cool Californian night. Bewildered, disoriented, but enjoyed myself more than ever before, perhaps because old school hardcore punk concerts hadn't happened to me in a long time and the atmosphere is always unique. The years will pass, the continents, but the attitude remains the same. Ah, the quieter turn of Ceremony? Estiqaatsi, there's all the time you want to appreciate and understand it better, for now, there's just to say sick of hardcore.
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