Eclectic Music Abounds At The Moroccan Lounge
It’s been too long since I’ve covered a show. Legitimately over half a year. That’s not to say that I didn’t get out of the house and into the dancehalls, but my camera stayed home, and the gigs were few. I’m not really sure WHAT to chalk this all up to, but I certainly hope that this drought is ending. Notably, the first show I’ll be heading to is at the Moroccan Lounge, where I last covered TsuShiMaMiRe.
For what would end up being a somewhat intimate and smaller crowd, the folks that made it out on a Sunday night were about to get quite an eclectic experience. The headliner was Reba Meyers, guitar shredder and co-vocalist of hardcore metal outfit Code Orange, and this was to be the last stop on her solo tour. The showcase turned out to be quite a range of styles and sounds, which, for those of us who were paying attention, represented Meyers’ influences and inspirations for her solo work. And all the openers were locals, which was fuckin rad.
First up, and to a painfully small group of people for the first part of their set, was Crisis Actor, a three-piece post-punk outfit. They reminded me a little bit of some of those early WIRE releases with a healthy dose of worldly frustration and anxiety. The guys played their hearts out despite the meager 20 people in the audience at 7:35 on a Sunday Night, and anyone who missed out, well, that’s on them.
Following Crisis Actor was solo artist Alejandro Aranda, who previously performed as Scarypoolparty, bringing a spellbinding blend of classical and modern influences on an acoustic guitar. It was impossible not to just be captivated in awe of Aranda’s opening number as his hands sped across the frets and strings. His precision was unreal, and while I may not have resonated with some of his vocal work, to deny his power on that guitar would just be plain idiocy. Photos don’t do any justice to it.
Final opening act, Melted Bodies are utterly unhinged, and I was fucking there for it! Spiritually, they are like a metal chugging cousin of Mr. Bungle and performance-wise wise they go fucking hard with epileptic backlighting and crunching guitars, digital sample pads, thundering drums, and some of the best kinds of ranting vocals. You know, all the sort of shit that’s right up my alley.
Reba Meyers’ solo work feels somewhat more informed by her early efforts with Adventures, which she referred to as her baby band, but refined and matured by her experiences with Code Orange. It’s a pretty unique fusion, and while I sometimes wonder about some of her choices, I truly appreciate her boldness. She never backs down artistically, and I admire that. I’m also a sucker for mezzos and altos, who I don’t feel are represented nearly enough.
It’s somewhat impossible to talk about Meyers without thinking about her recent outing as a touring guitarist on Marilyn Manson’s recent “comeback,” and I couldn’t help but wonder if that ripple effect of that decision impacted the audience size. Initially, the venue was going to be The Echo, but it was shifted to the Moroccan two days before the actual performance date. One of the other photogs I met that night speculated about ticket sales, but I’d rather let you readers make up your own minds on that; suffice to say, it was a pretty subdued crowd.
