Live at the Cake Shop, NY

I actually saw this band a few months ago playing at the Cake Shop in the Lower East. I remember me and a friend making our way down to the basement for the show and being met with a stench of sweat and damp so noxious I almost retched my delicious peanut butter Blondie all over the steps in front of me. I suppressed that reflex, however, so that I can now say that this was the first – and I dare say last – time I’ve ever enjoyed the curious combination of live independent music and baked goods.

When I went to get a beer I was surprised and alarmed when the barmaid offered to sell me earplugs. “Earplugs..?! Pah!” I dismissed her with a wave of the hand. I’m an experienced gigger – eardrums like hessian sacks. Besides, earplugs at a concert..?! Like, soooo un-indie. Anyway, it was a mere three seconds into Cymbals Eat Guitars’ set before I staggered back over to the bar, cake crumbs in my beard, hands clamped over my ears, pulling a face like a dismayed Chinese New Year parade dragon. Maybe it was because of the Cake Shop’s claustrophobic settings, or perhaps even the fragile hungover state I was in (standard Sunday evening fare), but this band were loud…

Why There Are Mountains

So I was curious to see how they would sound on CD. First impressions were contradictory to my initial thoughts; they have songs called ‘…and the Hazy Sea’, ‘Some Trees’ and ‘Cold Spring’, all more evocative of plaintive musings on Nature, and not the anarchic musical cannibalism their name – or my recollection of them – would suggest.

First track ‘…and the Hazy Sea’ confirms such a viewpoint. Over Joseph Ferocious’ yelping you hear a beautiful swirl of electric guitar and a delicate tinkling of the piano. But just as you’re lulled into this gentle ambience, Ferocious flies in with a scream, and the guitar nosedives into a cloud of feedback. This song demonstrates perfectly how Cymbals operate: sometimes structured, sometimes chaotic, quiet moments rudely interrupted by sudden frantic intrusions, allowing for immediate comparisons perhaps with At The Drive-In, but without the dark, pessimistic edge.

It’s not until a series of tracks starting from ‘Cold Spring’ that you really see what the band is musically capable of; in ‘Cold Spring’, Ferocious demonstrates a greater vocal diversity as he sings waveringly over a thoughtful violin and a methodical drum beat from drummer Matthew Miller. A rapid time-change does come in about half way through, but even then the song still retains some structure and uniformity, meaning that by the end of the track you’re not left wondering if somewhere along the line you accidently hit the skip forward button.

But it’s ‘Share’, plum in the middle of the album that is the standout track for me: immense, achingly beautiful, but also structured differently from any of the other songs. It starts gently, the lightly tapped piano eventually coming to a standstill. It’s here you expect Ferocious to careen in with a scream and a slamming of the guitar, but instead you’re met with a sudden, swirling deluge of feedback, straight out of the My Bloody Valentine school of Shoegaze. This intoxicating soundscape continues until a burst of trumpets and a screeching guitar herald a dramatic arrival into God Speed! country. Next song, ‘What Dogs See’, continues in this more experimental vein; the music is toned down and seems more of an undulating backdrop behind Ferocious’ furtive, half-whispered lyrics.

The album finishes much how it started; the penultimate song, ‘Living North’, is a great example of what the band does well – rapid, upbeat and jaunty guitar riffing accompanied by Joseph Ferocious’ quiet, then LOUD! frenzied vocalising. Listening to the album more than once, however, you can really appreciate the exceptional instrumentalism of the band and exactly how layered and textured the songs are. This eclecticism of sound affords them an air of eccentricity, so it shouldn’t surprise you to learn that next month’s tour of the UK will be supporting The Flaming Lips. If there can be one criticism, it is that it’s often hard to make out what it is Ferocious is saying; he seems to have that curious ability to say an awful lot without really saying anything. This really is a minor criticism – perhaps more a consequence of my stony determination to not wear earplugs at gigs – and shouldn’t deter anyone from what is an engaging and captivating listen.

Get hold of the latest album Why There Are Mountains here: http://www.amazon.com/Why-There-Are-Mountains/dp/B001RWY8HG

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Head over to their MySpace for tour dates: http://www.myspace.com/cymbalseatguitars