wo musicians. Two microphones. One singer who doesn’t really sing. Trying to describe Smashy Smashy is like talking about making love. It never quite captures the real thing. Since most critics have lazily begun relying on White Stripes comparisons for every eclectic musical duo, let’s make it clear that this band shares little in common with the Detroit group than the minimalistic instrument setup of a drum kit and guitar. But Smashy Smashy is anything but simplistic. Dan Thomas and Gentry Densely generate powerful, complex noise-rock that leaves audiences muted in awe.

On April 14, the band came to Kilby Court in a show they organized in order to play with San Francisco’s Deerhoof.

Against the backdrop of green plastic siding, Smashy Smashy took over the tiny stage with serious authority. Thomas, wrists bound in ace bandages (protecting an injury procured in a typically intense game of extreme kickball), powers through the pain, kicking off the evening with a raucous intro. Densely, formerly of The Red Bennies and the remaining member of iceburn, joins in, wielding his instrument as if engaged in combat. The man is a guitar god. Everyone in the audience seems to recognize this fact, living out their rock star fantasies with their eyes shut tight, playing along in their minds.

Damn, it’s so good.

Who knew that two people could summon so much noise? It is an impressive exercise in extended synchronized guitar and drum solos. Thomas labels the sound as deconstructive. “It’s a lot of moving parts around, shifting them and creating friction,” he says. However, the band is not solely concerned with turning convention on its head. Close listening reveals that the Smashy Smashy sound is rooted in tradition. “I hope people realize how much our influence is in rock,” says Thomas.

The band’s Kilby performance helps evidence its allegiance to rock-and-roll pioneers. Densely tosses in a George Harrison guitar line barely recognizable in 15 time. “I need a fix ’cause I’m going down,” he sings. The Beatles are not the only musical stalwarts included in Smashy Smashy’s repertoire. The band’s six-song EP (tentatively slated for release sometime in June) will feature a Pixies cover.

Thomas wanders around the courtyard directly following the performance, attempting to recover stamina lost on stage. “I’m really excited to see Deerhoof,” he says. “Their album is my favorite—until the new Radiohead record comes out.”

His sentiments are echoed as Redd Tape’s Will Sartain jumps on stage. “Deerhoof is my favorite band ever,” he says. “The second favorite band I’ve played with. Mates of State is my favorite band.”

Sartain’s excited paradoxical phrasing transfuses into Redd Tape’s stellar set. Though increasingly identified as the “band that cried wolf,” (due to several CD release parties that failed to present any finished CDs), the local indie rockers do not disappoint [Editor’s note: but the album still isn’t out. Try May 9.] Each song is played with intentionally flawed passion. Slight variations occur in “321 Wait,” and “Winter Wishes,” endowing them with a fresh new quality. Redd Tape is like the childhood friend who, though familiar, is always unpredictable. The only thing you can really rely on the band for is the production of a truly satisfying performance. Though the band’s strength lies in its live show, the band’s forthcoming album (should it ever actually materialize) promises to win back any fans who may have temporarily abandoned their own favorite band in an irrational hissy fit.

The evening’s musical trend of avant garde experimentation comes to a head with the arrival of Deerhoof.

This time it’s three guitars and one drum. High-pitched, nonsensical vocals pounce along, sporadically accentuating the wall of sound. Satomi Matsuzaki leads the sonic assault. “Bunny, bunny (or is it money bunny or money, money—oh, it matters not),“ she sings, “I’m going to get you/la la la la.” The San Francisco quartet has been dishing out sweet, quirky delights since 1994 when Rob Fisk and Greg Gaunier started playing around with some no wave grooves. In 1996, Matsuzuki joined, an addition that put a unique stamp on the already eclectic sound. It is a characteristic that continues to persist in the band’s pastiche of melodies.

Deerhoof is compelling, and as addictive as sugary Cocoa Puffs. Yum. The best band ever.
jamie@red-mag.com