Seeing mismatched musicians on the same bill is usually a bit jarring. The fans of these bands tend not to cross-pollinate: Many of them don't even like each other. And inviting them to the same venue at the same time can make for tension amongst the audience and performers, not to mention a general bummer of a live show.
At first glance, AppleJam's Thursday pairing of Brooklyn shoegazers Asobi Seksu and Philadelphia's irreverent Man Man, who are sharing a bill at Tufts' Oxfam Caf?©, is such an ill-fated duo. Asobi Seksu, on the one hand, has won critical acclaim for their interpretations of the fuzzy, warm and shy sound made famous in the late 1980s by Kevin Shields and My Bloody Valentine.
The members of Man Man, on the other hand, have ridiculous stage names, wear all-white athletic uniforms, and play live music like no one else in the world has - ever. Still, glaring fundamental differences notwithstanding, don't expect Thursday's free show, which starts at 8 p.m., to be anything less than one of the best concerts you will see all year.
Though their sound is very different, Asobi Seksu and Man Man are intrinsically linked by a pervading sense of musicianship and a genuine devotion to performing their songs. Asobi Seksu embodies these qualities in an understated way. The Brooklyn quintet formed in 2001 and self-released their eponymous debut the next year. "Asobi Seksu" was a glitzy debut that featured the mesmerizing half-English/half-Japanese vocals of Yuki Chikudate, whose golden pipes boldly stood out in a local scene full of insipid crooners. Still, despite the promise hiding in the neon fuzz of their debut, it took three years of AS quietly and industriously destroying local bars and clubs for them to finally get signed to Friendly Fire Records, who re-released "Asobi Seksu" in 2004.
The three long years between their first and second releases, when the band painstakingly perfected their performance by mercilessly touring the East Coast, turned out to be a blessing in disguise. The national tour that followed the album's re-release showcased the consummate talent of a band that has been playing live together for a very long time. The yawning guitars and subtly dense layers of instrumentation took on an enveloping sound in live settings, and AS shows became known as powerful, uplifting affairs.
Expect AS's fall 2006 tour to be more of the same, but better. Not only has the band added another spate of performances to their stock of experience, but this tour features better material. In May, the band released "Citrus," their sophomore album and one of this year's best.
"Citrus" still finds AS kneeling at the altar of bands like My Bloody Valentine and Lush, but also prominently features the virtuosity of bassist Glenn Waldman, whose resonant presence is notably more central than on "Asobi Seksu." Also more conspicuous is Chikudate, who sings lead vocals on all but one of the album's 12 tracks.
"Citrus" finds the band playing to their strengths and virtually perfecting the echoing bombast of shoegazer pop. In the hands of these battle-tested performers, this album figures to be a sight and sound to behold at Oxfam.
If Asobi Seksu understatedly embodies musicianship and performance, Man Man embodies these qualities in capitalized, bold, bright pink bubble letters surrounded by rhinestones and followed by 17 exclamation points. By blending the chaotic, discordant madness and guttural vocals of Tom Waits, Captain Beefheart and Frank Zappa as well as dipping the product in the quintet's seemingly bottomless well of instrumental and production know-how, Man Man sound utterly unlike any other group of musicians.
Their 2004 debut full-length, "The Man in a Blue Turban with a Face," spotlights the idiosyncratic group's knack for bizarre musical arrangements and perplexing songs. Hauling in tow an instrumental arsenal that includes tons of keyboards, horns and a marimba, "Blue Turban" was crowded with all kinds of wonky noises, but Man Man truly developed on their second release, this year's "Six Demon Bag." They've managed to turn their general musical absurdity into a batch of logically connected and accessible songs, and each one is imbued with the fantastically strange energy of weirdos making music as if their lives depended on it.
"Engwish Bwudd," little more than waltzing pianos and a cacophony of theatrical vocals, would sound like a kindergartner's song were it not for the unflinching earnestness and impeccability with which they bray, "Fee, Fi, Fo Fum! I smell the blood of an Englishman!"
"There's obviously a sense of humor in the music and the lyrics, even bordering on the absurd at times," said band manager Andrew Holman. "But the energy and the emotion that is put into the songs are genuine and earnest."
On record, Man Man's passion and skill produce engaging, complex songs. Live, however, these two qualities result in one of the most propulsive live shows on the road today. The collective energy of the band that fuels their records also saturates the room as they tear through their bizarre repertoire like a diesel lawnmower. Their performance is so well-rehearsed that band members don't speak to and rarely look at each other, devoting their attention and skill to whipping up their audience instead.
"This is a band that has striven to give the biggest show possible, every night, be it 4 or 400 people in the crowd," Holman said. "Who wants to see a band duplicate their album live...even if it's a great album? Not the guys in this band."
All differences aside, Asobi Seksu and Man Man place their utmost value on their music and the live setting. And ultimately, if musicians sharing a bill both buy into this ethos, it doesn't matter if they or their fans don't get along: The language of a good show is universal.
