By Gene Wagendorf III
Monday night saw a few veterans of the local DIY scene bring their brand of noisy hijinks out of the basement and into The Empty Bottle. It was loud, it was sweaty and it was free.
The three-piece sonic goon factory that is Unmanned Ship kicked off the night's shenanigans, promptly leveling the growing crowd with their distinct blend of psychedelic swirling and behemoth riffs. Though focused on crafting grisly and challenging soundscapes, the group still managed to sneak some catchy (albeit crusty) hooks into their set. Evocative of Explosions in the Sky insofar as their approach to aural mood building, Unmanned Ship came off like that band's neglected step-brother, the one locked in the basement whenever the parents have company over. Each bent note seemed to have a chip on its shoulder, and each sludgy eruption sustained itself with maniacal gravity. The music was anything but vulnerable, though a softer, brighter collection of sounds late in the set, offered against more restrained and studious percussion, suggested that Unmanned Ship has depth beyond simply wanting to sear their audiences faces off. That said, the tenderness climaxed with a melting, distorted honk that spread thickly over increasingly speedy drumming. The final song shifted from it's militant, somber pacing into a tilt-a-whirl jam, almost playful in its severity. Whereas Explosions in the Sky construct shimmering epics that invite the listener to revel in their beauty, Unmanned Ship's take is far more empowering, confronting the audience with a raw musical sculpture before tearing it back down. Cathartic, to say the least.
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| Unmanned Ship |
The three-piece sonic goon factory that is Unmanned Ship kicked off the night's shenanigans, promptly leveling the growing crowd with their distinct blend of psychedelic swirling and behemoth riffs. Though focused on crafting grisly and challenging soundscapes, the group still managed to sneak some catchy (albeit crusty) hooks into their set. Evocative of Explosions in the Sky insofar as their approach to aural mood building, Unmanned Ship came off like that band's neglected step-brother, the one locked in the basement whenever the parents have company over. Each bent note seemed to have a chip on its shoulder, and each sludgy eruption sustained itself with maniacal gravity. The music was anything but vulnerable, though a softer, brighter collection of sounds late in the set, offered against more restrained and studious percussion, suggested that Unmanned Ship has depth beyond simply wanting to sear their audiences faces off. That said, the tenderness climaxed with a melting, distorted honk that spread thickly over increasingly speedy drumming. The final song shifted from it's militant, somber pacing into a tilt-a-whirl jam, almost playful in its severity. Whereas Explosions in the Sky construct shimmering epics that invite the listener to revel in their beauty, Unmanned Ship's take is far more empowering, confronting the audience with a raw musical sculpture before tearing it back down. Cathartic, to say the least.
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