Experimental Dental School, Royal Crown, The Americas, Sleepyhead & The Chico Legends

The early evening apathy started to drain out of me when I realized that I was already late for the show over at Fulcrum Records. Still buzzing with the dizzy of sickness, I made my way over to the local independent record store, only to find that I had missed the first two bands.
From several accounts, The Chico Legends went about making their music via improvisational experimentation, and may or may not have used a chair as an instrument. I also found out that I probably would have liked Sleepyhead because of their infatuation with the music of Seattle sonic rockers Kinski. Both of these bands get an apology and an assurance that I’ll arrive early the next time.
The marvelous cacophony of The Americas was assaulting the packed crowd as I removed my earmuffs and entered the building. Abrasive and enticing sounds burst from a tall and manic man, shrieking and expounding into a microphone, the whites of his eyes monopolizing his expressive face. I found myself elbowing in for a closer look. This was my first time witnessing this Chicoan duo, and I was hooked. There are certain tenets of pop music that keep me regretfully returning to the FM dial, and thankfully, none of these were found in The Americas’ set. Instead, with rules bent backwards, drumsticks flailing in incomprehensible precision, full use of six strings and a volume knob just shy of 10, The Americas played anti-pop with glee and beatific complexity.
Stylistically, Royal Crown proved the odd ones out of the lineup. Equal parts buoyant piano pop and contemplative indie rock, their songs were melodically enjoyable and primarily straightforward. However, overall solidity seemed to be their biggest challenge of the night. Fumbling here and there amidst problems both technical and performance-wise, they had the air of a potentially great band whose show would have benefited from a preemptive practice or two. Still, singer Becky Anker’s vocal presence, which alternated from will-o-wisp to willful, was captivating throughout and Brad Nabor’s guitar playing provided more than a few tasteful moments.
And then came the event which had initially willed me out of my slumbering state. As the crowd issued back into the small record shop, Oakland, California’s Experimental Dental School urged them to step even closer to the action; in fact, the first row of spectators almost stood atop the pedal setup belonging to Jesse Hall, the band’s guitar-o-bassist. This blurring of the audience/band barrier was essential for the experience that was to unfold. An XDS show is kinda like riding a wobbly carousel behind a gruesomely deformed carnie barker who’s taken a shine to you: attention-grabbing, somewhat creepy and bafflingly enjoyable all the same.
With good-natured jeers and indictments, Hall informed us we had been put under hypnosis, but that it was now okay to move. Some complied: The murky-shanty-on-fire rhythms erupted and the swaying from side-to-side began. At one point, Hall prompted one young audience member to play his guitar/bass contraption using a metal dildo which was attached to his seatbelt-strap on some sort of a zip-chord. They both seemed to take great joy from that exchange. The audience more or less served as a human trampoline as the charismatic guitarist threw himself into the crowd, only to be repelled back towards the drums. Toward the end of their woefully brief set, drummer Ryan Chittick shared a moment with Hall as he leaned over his kick drum and bellowed/chanted some sea creature-esque vocalisms, which Hall would answer by replicating the sound through his strings and effects. But too soon after it began, Experimental Dental School bid their last olé, leaving the crowd to mill about and reassemble their wonderfully scrambled brains.
– Serge Thunderberg
– Photo by Lania Cortez

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