UNWOUND

9.9.00
Brownies
New York, NY

It's been nearly two years since Unwound have released a new studio album or toured extensively, so tickets for their weekend stint at Brownies went quickly. Past experience with this band left me with no doubt as to where I was going to be on this fine Saturday evening. I guess I expected to hear choice cuts from my favorite chunk of the Unwound catalog, from 1993's "Fake Train" up through 1998's "Challenge For A Civilized Society." (and their "Single History 1991-1997," all released through Kill Rock Stars) But rather than mixing it up with a few surprises thrown in, Unwound tried their hand at playing mostly new stuff - maybe seven or eight new songs - before plucking out any of their recognizably discordant melodies.

After Turing Machine tore it up with their wall of drone attack, the room filled with nervous energy in anticipation of Unwound's joyfully morose, abrasive din. Two and a half excruciating hours of uppers (XBXRX, Turing Machine) and downers (The Letter E) had left us with sore joints and mild headaches. Unwound finally appeared onstage with their trademark low-key demeanor met with enthusiastic cheers. Things were starting off slow, with some shimmering guitar strumming and mellow rhythms. Singer/guitarist Justin Trosper, appearing listless, seemed bent on drumming up some inspiration on his transparent guitar, but his distance from the microphone left his infrequent vocals a mystery. Everyone remained patient, new song after new song, as we waited to get blown away. But a relationship can only stand on one leg for so long; the previously rising energy began to slowly deflate through the course of the first song.

I trusted that any new Unwound material would challenge my perception of the band's sound a bit, but I most wanted to rock out to the older songs. I've seen Unwound in various clubs in various cities in years past and they've consistently blown me away. But I was honestly underwhelmed with their lack of presence on this particular night. The crowd's silence during the lengthy between-song tunings filled the room with tension. Drummer Sara Lund displayed frequent looks of frustration and helplessness, but her drumming remained consistent throughout the set. Bassist Vern Rumsey bobbed back and forth on his heels with his side to the crowd, but with a subdued energy. It appeared Unwound were trying on something new for size.

Since Lund joined the Olympia, WA-based trio in 1993,Unwound has successfully built upon their signature, abrasive style with dynamic, haunting brilliance. But, as more than a half-dozen new songs crept from the stage tonight, each one dragging its feet more than the last, I could see that this whole evening would soon become a memory of my losing battle to enjoy the new and unfamiliar. Rather than unfolding in layers of sonic textures as Unwound's music tends to do, each song consisted of an unchanging, repeating riff, with an unfinished feel. This style recalled The Letter E's earlier, half-welcomed instrumentals, rather than the rocking Sonic Youth-Fugazi-Wire mixture of influences.

"C'mon, everybody, Unwound!!" one fan cried out from his perch on the stage, attempting to rouse the slouching crowd. But everyone seemed to interpret his plea to be directed at the very restrained band. Trosper, Lund and Rumsey kept more aloof than usual, and the songs hardly hinted at the trio's power that I had experienced in the near past.

A prior Unwound show at the Cooler found me inebriated beyond belief, but I recognized every song through the disorienting haze, bobbing my head and feeling every note. Bassist Vern Rumsey was a cyclone of bleached hair, eerily resembling Kurt Cobain while drummer Sara Lund kept the busy rhythms tight. Somewhere in the set, Trosper's supernatural, compelling wail, coupled with the frenetic, trebly drones in "Message Received" ripped through my mind. My jaw dropped and I quickly sobered. I was blown away by this band's power and their unassuming execution. One particular show a year prior had everyone squeezed up front for the entire set, before leaving the club in drenched, inspired herds with tales to tell.

Trosper's customary deadpan performance has always floored me, as his voice and guitar playing stir various emotions, but my efforts to connect to the music on this night remained in vain. Trosper's vocals, a large part of the Unwound sound, were missing. The band kept the room packed for most of its set, but by the time one of the new songs took a painful nose dive and stood back up as the controlled chaos of "Lucky Acid" from 1993's "Fake Train," it was almost too late. Heads bobbed to the few recognizable songs in blissful relief for several minutes before the end of the set. Weakly thanking us, Trosper, Lund and Rumsey casually walked off stage as if nothing had happened. But that's just how my perception was colored after not getting what I expected. But, after knowing this band for so long, I should have expected the unexpected.

My first inclination was to feel cheated. After coming to my senses, I realized that I have prejudged and acted unfairly; any band that changes the way you listen to music deserves the benefit of doubt. How easily many of us dismiss artists when they don't sound or act as we please. Any band that seeks to challenge ears and keep their music interesting will explore possibilities in sound rather than simply relying upon their established sonic foundations.

Do bands have a responsibility to please their fans? Yes, just as fans should support hard-working artists. My disappointment with the Unwound show prompted me to explore the causes of my displeasure, and to rethink my attitude toward experiencing live music.

The relationship between musicians and their devotees is a labor of love on both sides. Such strong connections between artists and their followers carry high expectations, which, when not met, can lead to distress for both musician and listener. Rock fans demand that bands deliver the goods in the flesh just as those very same bands dream of packed rooms.

Loyalty between groups and their fans is put to the test when the time comes to try out new songs live, before most listeners have had a chance to hear them. As much as we are intrigued by new material, everyone wants the "hits," those tried and true melodies that have become the soundtracks to our lives. Thus, if the new material is found to be lacking, the audience comes away disappointed and maybe even a little belligerent. Playing previously unheard material, whether in terms of new songs or musical style, can prove to be a daunting task. Just ask Bob Dylan.

Maybe they were tired. Maybe the vibe wasn't right. Perhaps the new sounds we heard were mere sketches, grayscale thumbnails of fully realized, soul-stirring epics to come. Or, maybe the people onstage were imposters. Whatever the reason, I'll file this one away as a warm-up, being the faithful fan that I am, and look forward to the return of the great Unwound in the near future. One bad night out of many amazing ones ain't too bad.

- Hal Miller

This review was originally featured on Gigmania.com.