mr. zilla goes to town

Tuesday, November 09, 2004

on a jag

I'm starting to feel like it's a case of England or bust. The last 10 days have just about drained every last sap of energy I've got and I still need to gear up for a full on final 48 hours at work followed immediately by a 9-12 Japone set and then a couple of hours of Sander Kleinenberg around the corner at Five on Wednesday.

Thursday I'll be hunkering down like a tick-tock homo floriensis to double dose on the deecee zeitgist - none other that Leni Reifenstahl's Triumph of the W[ill]. Following that I'll be just in the frame of mind to take California - via a blitzkreig down through the lowlands of Oregon - and roll a few tanks victoriously down Rodeo Drive, be dissuaded by the fighting spirit of the Hawaiians, open a second front in the northeast, and heroically give my last breath and life to the fatherland in a futile push on Bostongrad. And all before heading to NYC lunchtime friday. Yeah, life's so tough. Violins me. I almost can't wait to get on the plane just cos I know it will be six hours of uninterrupted sleep. Almost.

Nonetheless Sunday night I dragged myself out of the house and down to U St to catch a truly remarkable experience going by the moniker Jaga Jazzist. They're a Norwegian ten piece band signed to the Ninja Tune label with an astonishing texture to their sound and a presence on stage monumental in its eccentric energy. Picture almost a dozen shaggy scandanavians before you in a constant state of undulating bodygroove, bent respectively over their xylophone, tuba, synth, tweak box, soprano sax and/or bass clarinet, flute, geetars, drum kit, & trombone. Think about what that looks like and think about how it might sound; despite having four of their albums I was cosmically unprepared for the hypnotic drama in the aural tapestry of their live performance and if I wasn't standing up for it probably would have fallen out of my chair. There are probably a perishingly small number of readers of this site to whom the following analogy will make any sense, but it has to be made anyway it is so apt: Jaga Jazzist are the Avalanches on hydroponic Birdseed. More accessibly, Rolling Stone have called them "a virtuoso union of Miles Davis' 1975 Agharta-Pangaea band, zero-gravity 1970 Pink Floyd and the chilled digital foreboding of Four Tet and To Rococo Rot."

Uh, right. I think we both need a sponge, Mick. But the point is, Jaga Jazzist are a, frickin, mazing.


  • The Jaga Jazzist photographs from Washington DC speak volumes of the complexity and curiosity of this group:

    By Blogger Malicious Monk, at 4:29 pm  

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