Sonic Youth
proves it’s not too old to make noise
Sonic Youth/Magik Markers/White Magic
Avalon, Boston, Massachusetts
August 14, 2004
by Marc Hirsh
originally published in The Boston Globe, August 16, 2004
When they formed Sonic Youth in the early 1980s, Thurston Moore, Lee
Ranaldo and Kim Gordon probably didn’t consider the ramifications of
selecting a band
name that seemed to preclude aging gracefully. They’re stuck with it
now,
though, despite lasting long enough to be considered elder statesmen of
avant-garde
noise rock. Consider: having released its first record in 1983, Sonic
Youth
will be eligible for induction in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in
four
years.
Sonic Youth may have matured, but the band hasn’t grown complacent, as
evidenced by the chaotic noise on display during its nearly two-hour
set at Avalon on
Saturday. Standing in front of six light boxes that switched between
simple colors, album artwork and pictures of guitars and flowers, the
band performed a little over half of their new Sonic Nurse
while skimming its back catalogue. Except for “Sugar Kane” and the
skittering blast of “White Cross,” there were few obvious
crowd-pleasers throughout the evening, which was heavy on dirge-like
drones such as “Disconnection Notice” and “Unmade Bed.”
In many ways, Sonic Youth gave strong indications of being nothing more
than a different breed of jam band, one that grooves on squealing
sheets
of noise rather than notes and rhythm. Moore and Ranaldo played their
guitars
at stun volume, crammed drumsticks under their strings, unplugged their
instruments to explore the buzz made by the cords and hit notes simply
to let them decay into nothingness. Moore looked for sounds anywhere he
could find them, at one point climbing the speakers on the side of the
stage and rubbing his guitar
against the ledge above them.
That sonic exploration occasionally confounded the audience’s
instincts. During the closing “Expressway To Yr Skull,” the crowd
cheered as the concluding feedback began, but they quieted down as
Sonic Youth kept pushing it further. A few people tried to start a mosh
pit during the cacophony, but it didn’t last long. For seven minutes,
feedback swelled, rippled, crossed and uncrossed as the audience, like
the band itself, stood transfixed by pure sound.
Both opening acts seemed committed to similar aesthetics. Magik Markers
was all noise manipulation, using two guitars and a drum kit to create
atonal and often arrhythmic drones underneath Elisa Ambrogio’s free
verse ramblings. The vocals of White Magic’s Mira Billotte were more
fragmentary but subtler, and even though the music’s underlying
components weren’t too far removed from typical minor-key alternative
fare, the band put them together in unexpected ways to unsettling
effect.