John Dwyer hasn’t slept in fourteen years.
More force of nature than mere mortal, the man has neither the time nor the need.
At least that’s what it seems like. Ever since repositioning himself across the United States from Providence to San Francisco in 1997, the singer, songwriter & schizo-rock journeyman has barreled his way through the seedy underbelly of the West Coast underground with all the strength and subtlety of a seismic shock. Whether with the performance noise of Pink & Brown, the tightly wound garage punk of The Coachwhips, or any number of the irreverently named projects (The Hospitals, Zeigenbock Kopf, Dig That Body Up, It’s Alive) that he has attached himself to, one thing has been kept clear: Dwyer is the type of guy that can only sit still long enough to make to his next move.
His latest and longest lasting move comes in the form of Thee Oh Sees, a hyperactive rock quartet replete with all of Dwyer’s signature trademarks, including compact song arrangements, chaotic live shows, not to mention a tireless touring schedule and prolific recording output. Originally conceived as a vehicle for his solo studio side projects, Dwyer eventually expanded the idea from its original freak-folk beginnings into a fully-formed collaboration.
Mixing the drug-induced exploration of late-sixties psychedelia with the DIY urgency of early-eighties punk, Thee Oh Sees display a distinct brand of lo-fi garage rock that is as referential to the past as it is revealing of the present. Staying true to Dwyer’s overall insomniac approach, this brand has been displayed with reckless abandon. In 2009 alone, the band released two full-length albums, three solo singles, three split singles, one song for a compilation and a collection of home demo recordings just for good measure. Somewhere in between, they found the time to hit the road for a sweeping tour.
On record, Thee Oh Sees come across like a caffeinated jolt to the back of the brain. On stage, they’re a speedball spike to the bloodstream. Last Friday night (March 25th) at the Center For The Arts in Los Angeles was no different. They hit the stage in a hurry and whipped up a frenzy with their first note. One song in and bodies were crowd-surfing across the room. Two songs in and beer cans hit the ceiling, while unknown articles of clothing were hurled towards the stage. By the time they broke in with the curiously titled ‘Meat Step Lively‘ from 2009’s ‘Help‘, the pandemonium had doubled. With its three-chord simplicity, primitive stomp, acid-fried guitar solos and shout-along chorus, it’s no wonder that the song has become a banner-waving anthem for the sweat-filled stage antics of Thee Oh Sees.
If only the sweat stopped there. Where most bands pull back the intensity halfway through their set to showcase some diversity in sound, Thee Oh Sees take the opposite approach, instead opting to push the pace to the point of near collapse. As a result, the back half of songs was even more frantic than the first. ‘Enemy Destruct’ shot out like a meth-addled mash-up of Iron Butterfly and Black Flag, while ‘I Was Denied‘ could be a straight up summertime sing-along, if it wasn’t coated with a wall of white noise and warped-out reverb. Then came ‘Warm Slime‘, the epic 13-minute title track off their most recent record, which begins as a mild-mannered pop song before veering off into a stunning psych freak-out. The band then capped off the night with an extended version of the aptly named ‘Dead Energy‘, a creepy cartoon of a song that played out like an imaginary soundtrack to The Night Of The Living Dead, if you watched the movie in fast forward at three in the morning.
Now make no mistake. Thee Oh Sees aren’t for everyone. If you’re looking for a technical display of musicianship, then look elsewhere. Dwyer and Petey Dammit’s guitar lines are simple and repetitive, Mike Shoun’s drumming is amped-up and off-kilter and Brigid Dawson’s keyboards and tambourines are often buried too deep in the mix to even notice. If you’re into a catchy chorus and some lyrics you can connect with, then don’t bother. While Dawson’s backing vocals can be subtle and serene, Dwyer’s manic yelps are muddled at best and utterly indecipherable at worst.
But if you want to stay up late to smoke and drink while the rest of the straight world sleeps, then look no further. Because after fourteen years, one thing is for certain: John Dwyer isn’t passing out anytime soon.
(Beau De Lang)
