It's Official: Earholes Hate Brooklyn Masonic Temple

The last forty-eight hours have created a near legendary status for one New York City music venues, placing it in the echelon of other timeless joints like Max’s, CBGB’s, Irving Plaza-the music places that people like us in the Midwest dream and imagine about.

The venue-the Brooklyn Masonic Temple-has consistently booked hard rock shows for some time now, proving to be a very heavy-friendly venue with some very heavy-friendly qualities.

Yes it seems the Temple’s high ceilings, grubby interior and cool lineage all bow well for metal lineage-but the other bonus is that the venue is independently booked and is not subjected to normal regulations.

In other words, band can play at the Brooklyn Masonic Temple and be as loud as humanly possible.

It is an ideal spot for any band that likes to test the boundaries of hearing loss.

But for the last couple of days, a pair of bands have come through the doors of the Temple and tested the lawfulness of volume.

These aren’t normal purveyors of metal and hard rock; these are bands that are so aggressively loud that a potential to cause audiences to involuntarily shit themselves.

It started with Japan’s ultimate power trio took the stage with Ian Astbury. Since I’m completely smitten with The Cult’s Love album and equally gushing about Boris’ Pink, this match-up is heavenly.

According to the Village Voice’s Sound In The City blog, the power trio plus sometimes Jim Morrison impersonator was so loud that they continually blew the power out at the Temple. In fact, the band finally gave up during their sonically destructive version of The Doors’ “The End,” right as Ian was channeling his inner Jimbo.

The sound crew finally got things in order just in time for planet Earth’s heaviest band ever to hit the stage. The band rarely plays anything about 1,000 kHz, so when their guttural assault was underway, a crew of NYC’s finest came through the doors and literally pulled the plug themselves. Reports indicate that the material was so brutal that most in attendance were too destroyed to protest the man’s decision to end the festivities.

But wait, there’s more.

On the following night, the reunited Sleep came through and provided another night of high volume drama. From the Voice reporter’s account, you could hear even the opening band’s output from several blocks away and it was even louder when Matt Pike took the stage.

No cops were called and no fuses blown, but Sleep’s performance created a trifecta of volume that was seemingly unmatched in New York’s storied history.

And with that much sonic damage taking place, the Brooklyn Masonic Temple has secured its own place in NYC rock history and the venue that dared to make everyone’s earholes bleed.

Boris with Michio Kurihara - Rainbow

If the idea of “Japanese Psychedelic Rock Underground” doesn’t blow your mind completely, then allow the Grandfather of the Japanese Psychedelic Rock Underground’s (Michio Kurihara) collaboration with that country’s premier Japanese Psychedelic Rock Underground band (Boris) trigger your synapses into a state of otherworldliness.
While Boris’ Pink, their stunning breakthrough from last year, actually added a few novel elements to the genre, the results of the pair’s collaboration (Rainbow) doesn’t soar to the same places.
At the same time, the areas that they do manage to reach are pretty far out.
The title track takes a slow-paced rhythm and gentle electric guitar for a redundant five minutes, allowing a knarly, fuzzed-out guitar solo to become the song’s centerpiece.
“Starship Narrator” puts the drum kit high up in the mix, while a fuzzed drone guitar becomes the song’s foundation. Then, you guessed it, another destroyed ’n frazzled sounding guitar solo comes in to knock the whole fucking thing to its knees.
Fans of The Bevis Frond and Flying Saucer Attack should really find comfort in Rainbow’s explorations, which usually follow the aforementioned formula (slow, marauding songs with an intensely charged guitar solo) while the occasional softer pieces follow the same territories as latter-day Comets On Fire. At no time does the language barrier (all songs are sung in Japanese) become an issue or distraction; this is, after all, an album fueled entirely on vibe and headspace, to the point where the instruments are the main form of communication anyway.
But it can be forgettable, much like the also-ran bands that Boris and Kurihara try to emulate. Sure, it’s a shame that a band like Blue Cheer never got their dues (thanks, mostly, to their own internal problems), but there’s something pretty cool about running into those 60’s relics for the first time and discovering something that most people would have no idea about. Which may be the exact thing that Rainbow is trying to accomplish anyway: a modern-day cult band completely devoted to the acid freakouts of their own record collection.
If that’s the case, then mission accomplished

Boris-Pink

Godzilla, a prehistoric monster rudely awaken by American atom bomb testing in the Pacific Ocean, should not be confused with the band Boris, a rock monster rudely awaken by sludge/psychedelic/noise music that traveled across the Pacific Ocean from America. It’s easy to understand the confusion; however, as both beasts can level buildings in their path and both possess thermonuclear breath.
Originally released in Japan last year, Boris’ Pink is, I’m guessing here, their 16th album (not counting live albums and comps) in the past decade, and probably their most comprehensive: every hard rock genre twist that Boris has managed throughout their career can be found here, in one tinnitus-inducing 45 minute package.
Elements of The Stooges, Kyuss, Melvins and any other band that finds solace in decimating amplifiers is represented. The only thing that seems to be holding the leash is the confines of the v.u. meter, which is buried red deep throughout the majority of the album.
This is supposed to be their most accessible effort to date; which, of course, is a hoot because every track (aside from the instrumentals) is sung in Japanese and, even then, is somewhat irrelevant as any semblance of vocals is usually crucified at the hands of the unrelenting guitar grind.
While labelmates Sunn 0))) steadfastly study the art of metallic drone, Boris nicely summarizes several areas of metal with the attention span of a Ritalin-enabled video gamer. And like the most devoted player, this power trio has completed all of the levels without the aid of cheat codes; there’s absolute passion in their performances and a great deal of hard work behind that wall of din.
Oh no, there goes Tokyo…