Turquoise Tuesday

Some say the drum machine is the sound of the city—mechanical, unfeeling, lonely. When heard alone in your bedroom through a pair of janky ass headphones and set to the backing track of your neighbors yelling at their TVs, it can be crushing. Utterly crushing. Suicide comes to mind. At this point, I hope you see I've taken a left turn from that opening sentence and am taking about the band. It's funny then that the drum machine is also a crucial ingredient to a thousand failed attempts at warding off the psychogeographical mindfuck of the city turned happy, golden. It's a small facet of what makes "Blue Monday" pop the dance fantastic, but without its flippant Oberheim DX beats, it's inconceivable to think of the song being the cold classic it is today. And no matter how many misfires NO has on their new album, "Blue" will always quicken the pulse when the lights are lowered and the bootheels and bloodshot eyes are wandering. Point being, listening to music made on drum machines has everything to due with context.Which brings us to Au Revoir Simone's show at Pianos last night.

 

After the sound man faded out Killa Cam's "Hey Lady" (singular), the three ladies in Au Revoir Simone took the stage in front of a handful of mostly middle aged men and a few cool Brits. Their nervous smiles made no sound and neither did the crowd. Things were at a micro standstill until a lone drum machine puttered along to kick of the set—dun dun dun dun dun. In a half filled room, it sounded, well, lonely—spring in New York City and I'm still wearing a sweater and a jacket lonely. Then things stared to happen. A synth swept in from stage right, followed by a steady casio riff. The keys player on the right began to throw her worries over her uncovered shoulder as the middle girl began to sing. What started out as a leeking faucet was turning into some Nintendo worthy head bobage (not a diss: my favorite Squarepusher song always reminded me of racing a pixelated spaceship through the tundra.) Melodies started to find their partners and dance with each other. It's hard to remember the words, but I think they had something to due with relationships or optimism or something. This went on for a few songs. Nice and politely, no glitches yet—technology was a friend. But when ARS asked to get more in the monitors on stage, they got some nasty feedback. More nervous smiles. At this point, the room was there's for the taking. If only....
Then they hit the home run on their final song. Thin fingers were shuffling around on the keys and the girls were singing their formerly timid asses off. The vocals jumproped over the beats as they belted out their final words: "There's a blue ribbon at the end of the race." And with that, I headed out to call a friend, not needing to put my hands in my pockets to spite the cold.

Elliot Aronow