When 10pm rolled around on Friday night I found myself babysitting, and watching The Wedding Planner on the Oxygen network. Despite the insipidness of the moment, I just wasn’t sure how I was going to muster the gusto to bear the frigid KC air and make the trek downtown to review some bands. Despite myself, I cracked open a Coke Zero, tried to erase any annoying traces of JLo that were lingering in my mind and hit the road (that is of course, after the baby’s parents got home).
I arrived at The Czar Bar around 10:45 for The Record Machine’s Holiday Showcase, unfortunately just missing the opening act, Sam Billen (of whom two uh, endearingly sloppy, gentlemen at the end of the night claimed was their favorite). After grabbing a Boulevard Wheat (hey no PBR tonight, I scored some babysitting cash) I made my way up front to find a corkscrew haired, ripped jean-clad kid in the corner hovering over a Mac laptop. Meanwhile a curled up form sitting on the stage fiddled with some lights. Moments later, some dark house beats started thumping, lights were flashing and people were instantly dancing. I didn’t know what it was, but I knew that I liked it. All I heard was electro madness that thudded in my head and a sound that was both bright and haunting. Somehow a piñata was offered to the crowd (this would be the first of many that night) and whacked open, while the beats droned on. There was cheering, dancing, sweating, and Taylor Swift’s “You Belong With Me” (which had indie kids singing along word for word) that was electronically mashed and backed with live vocals. After the set was over and candy littered the floor I gave the man behind this madness a high five. Later, I would look him up on the Internet and find next to nothing. I found out later that this entire progressive hubbub was issued from a laptop and the throat of an airy voiced, unassuming boy who calls himself, Motorboater. The night was off to a great start.
Next up was Kansas City four-piece, Capybara, who was fresh off of a three-month tour and grateful to be home. From the moment these boys stepped on the stage there seemed to be a warm glow about them. The crowd seemed eager for Caypbara’s set to commence as the area in front of the stage quickly filled up. There was a multifarious collection of instruments and props on stage, which speaks for the band’s unique, full-bodied, and jaunty sound. There was everything ranging from the standard keyboard and drum kit, etc. to a not so standard melodica, xylophone and a giant five foot cut out of Shaquille O Neal’s face. The energy of Capybara was contagious. One of the band members, Mark Harrison, even sported a holiday reindeer sweatshirt and as the show continued, he proceeded to shed layers, later revealing a button up shirt accented by a Christmas tree tie (belonging to his Dad), which he threw into the crowd. Soon after, he simply ended up in a maroon tee shirt. If Motorboater’s performance was a well-timed appetizer, then Capybara was the main course: rich, complex, and satisfying. At times, Capybara captured Grizzly Bear-esque harmonies. At other times I heard earnest yelps that echoed Spencer Krug of Wolf Parade. There were “world beats” and catchy rhythms that bordered on a Vampire Weekend Sound. Sometimes I heard the somberness of Casiotone For the Painfully Alone in the keyboards.
However, aside from any references or comparisons, Capybara truly has a quality that is uniquely their own. This quality produces a sound that is sincere, spirited and soulful. When they played “Magpies,” I envisioned stars winking at each other, tumbling around for a bit and then floating off into another galaxy. Next, was the gentle ditty, “Cutaway Kid,” which speaks of a “kid with hope and little despair” and “drinking whiskey and milk from a hand painted cereal bowl.” “Any Kind of Life” was a rousing, shouty, spirited song that elicited fist pumps from the crowd as well as the band. I believe the band closed the set with “The Wimp,” a popular song they claimed to hate playing, yet also love playing. I saw not one iota of hate from the band for the duration of the song, instead, only vigor and zeal. In the end, Capybara is a talented and bright band that is as quixotic, endearing, and intriguing as the giant rodent it is named after.
After Capybara’s sparkling set, Max Justus took the stage showcasing equal amounts of energy and craft as the bands before him, yet he seemed to present himself with a different angle and texture. Justus was heavy, dark, electronic, heavenly and macabre all at once. At one point my friend who was dancing alongside me yelled over the pulsating beats and melodies, that Justus sounded like Nine Inch Nails meets Moby…. an interesting and well-aimed observation, I thought. The sound of Max Justus is dark and bright; mechanical and rhythmic; strange and alluring.
Like Motorboater, Max Justus uses his own voice alongside his laptop. In addition, he was operating some high-tech looking type of light-board (or so it appeared to my eyes), but I have no understanding as to what it did. Hell, for all I know, magic unicorn dust could account for all of this electronic mayhem. Seams feasible to me. After all, you must be doing something magical if at the end of the night there are several guests voluntarily dancing along side you on stage in various limbs and heads of severed piñatas while the giant head of Shaquille O’Neal floats behind you and a dedicated crowd dances unaffected even though the entire bar reeks of parmesan cheese and BO.
To sum it up, everyone, everything, every instrument and even every piñata was brimming with life Friday night for The Record Machine’s Holiday Showcase. Kansas City and its wide range of musicians and the people who love them pullulated with energy, indeed making it a holiday night to remember and it sure as hell beat The Wedding Planner.
The Record Machine: website
Photographs and writing by: Crystal Clem
