indie rock
9:30 – Midnite
$9 donation

stacie slotnick presents
“the critique of pure reason”
with
-maserati
-mono

Maserati (Kindercore Records)
Yet another of the Athens, GA, experimentalists, Maserati picked up where bands like Tortoise, Macha, and Labradford left off with complex, warmly textured instrumental music straying from the confines of rock to explore the ambient, jazz, and even modern classical traditions. The four piece of Coley Dennis (guitar), Steve Scarborough (bass), Phil Horan (drums), and Matt Cherry (guitar) began playing together in early 2001. After several months, they recorded and self-released 37:29:24, a moody blend of space rock expansiveness and scatter-bursts of Slint-like aggression. In 2002, they met again in producer Andy Baker’s studio Chase Park (where albums by Macha, the Mendoza Line, and Jucifer have been recorded) to record The Language of Cities, the band’s first label-backed album on the indie pop clearinghouse Kindercore. The eight-song album continues their exploration of emo-tinged instrumental rock best exemplified in the track “The Language,” a seven-minute plus opus of sustained cymbal build ups, churning guitar, and John McEntire-style fills. (allmusic)

mono (Arena Rock Recording Co.)
mono are not the bomb, they are a bomb. Formed in 2000, mono is Takaakira Goto (guitar), Tamaki (bass), Yasunori Takada (drums) and Yoda (guitar). Their first full-length record, “Under the Papal Tree,” was touched by the hand of John Zorn, who put the disc out on his Tzadik label. “Papal Tree” found a home amongst the post-rock minions of Japan, but received little fanfare in the fair-skinned corners of the world—thanks in large part to the heavy swaths of Sonic Youth and Mogwai-style pyrotechnics that dominate the album. But on their ominous sophomore disc, “One Step More and You Die,” mono has conjured up their own version of pummeling guitar rock, and it is pitch black. Layering eerie, vapor trails of ambient white noise, with napalm waves of primordial guitar, mono creates a nightmare dreamscape where sound takes on physical form, makes a fist and buries it into your gut. Need proof? Check out album centerpiece “Com(?)” An epic 15:57 long, listening to it is like standing in a roaring wind tunnel, guitars whipping up a maelstrom, drums throwing sucker punches in your face, bass exploding in your brain pan. You could swear the flesh is being peeled from your bones in excruciating strips. A Matisse dipped in pig’s blood and painted over with the ink-blotted tails of cobras, mono is beautiful; mono is violent.

Production: stacie slotnick - thecprthecpr AT yahoo DOT com