Cursive and Engine Down
Brownies, New York (January 14, 2001)
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Cursive
Brownies, New York
January 14, 2001 |
So, when Engine Down, composed of bassist Jason Wood, guitarists Keeley Davis and Jonathan Fuller, and drummer Cornbread Compton emerged under the glow of a set of red lights which they had erected on the stage, I was not really sure what to expect. Then they played and there was music. And not to get biblical, but it was good. Even a broken guitar string couldn't put a damper on the band's momentum and they recovered from that minor obstacle flawlessly.
Making use of Cornbread's enthusiasm for his newly acquired drum kit and the rest of the band's energy in guitar playing and singing, Engine Down delivered nearly an hour's worth of magnetic songs. They were full of quirky meters (I guarantee one was in 5/4, and another was in 6/8), well-executed musicianship, and a spoken song that brought to mind Stephen Malkmus's determined rant on "Conduit For Sale."
And the rock rolled on as Omaha, Nebraska's Cursive took the stage with a smoking version of "Lament Of Pretty Baby" featuring the fantastically tight rhythm work of Matt Maginn on bass and Clint Schnase on drums. The evening's program drew upon a few older songs and two brand new ones which front man Tim Kasher, in his ever supremely pleasant demeanor, explained would be on an EP coming out this spring.
But, the true highlights remained the often-mathematical and darkly captivating tracks from 2000's Domestica (Saddle Creek). "The Martyr" was even more devastating and immediate live than on the album, and Kasher's cries sounded like what might be emitted from the mouth of Edvard Munch's "The Scream" if the painting could indeed make a sound.
The contrast between Kasher's darling between-song rambles, which included calling every member of the crowd a "sweetheart," and his cathartic and at times brutal singing performance -- made the songs that much more intense and gratifying.
During the set closer "The Casualty," Cursive let everything out, sonically and physically, as the band members (including Lullaby For The Working Class's Ted Stevens) on guitar, flailed around the stage, completely enveloped in the music. And in true arena rock style, the crowd responded by chanting the lyrics along with the band.
A.K. GOLD | A.K. Gold lives in Washington, D.C., where she slaves away for a non-profit organization and constantly compares everything to New York City or Chicago. She's earned her "cred" as a college radio and pre-1960 country music DJ, committed indie label street teamer, sporadic zinemaker/contributor, retired mail-order filler and occasional freelance writer. From time to time, she publishes Anecdotal Evidence, a per zine that will some day be considered for the National Book Award, or possibly not. If you want to buy a copy, or desire to write to her for some other reason, email criticgirl@hotmail.com.