Live Review: Monkey3

Cruising on Majik Carpets (B) / Monkey3 (SWI)

11/11/05
Café Paradox, Leuven (B)

Motherfuckers Be Trippin'

The appropriately named Cruising on Majik Carpets is a jam collective (they promised me they didn't rehearse any specific songs, just agreed about the keys in which to play) that consists of 3/4ths of Hypnos 69 (Steve on guitar, Steven on sax, Tom on vintage 70s keyboards) with additional help from Robby from Titty Twister (on bass), Bart (on guitar) and a drummer that was unfamiliar to me. Of course, setting out without a certain plan, without clear-cut structures and intentions involves some consequences: no matter how quick the interaction might be and how fluid the communication between the musicians, there's always the lack of a clear direction, while songs like this usually aren't the most catchy or hooky either. Luckily, this sextet was well aware of the possible pitfalls and ensured that things wouldn't get out of hand. As a rule, bass player Robby was the one to lay down the foundation, a led-heavy, repetitive groove that functioned as a guide for the rest of the band. The drummer usually followed, adding his own accents here and there, while the guitarists steered the band into a certain direction. Finally, the sax and keyboards seemed to have a more embellishing function, helped creating a tension, developing a climax or guarantee a landing on soothing ground. Of course, it's very much indebted to the spirit of early 70s art/jam-rock and if bands like Pink Floyd and The Soft Machine aren't your bag, there's no way you'd like this. Occasionally, the band sounded somewhat reminiscent of Led Zeppelin's trippier moments ("No Quarter," for instance), but the blues was largely absent, as was the majestic grandeur of many of Hypnos 69's songs. Instead, you'd get free-floating music that bordered on the overly repetitive and directionless sometimes, but usually sounded inspired and convincing enough. Especially the second song (I presume improvisations have no titles here) seemed smart enough to fool you it had an inner logic that was agreed on, while its climax was the best moment of the set. Taking the risk to fall flat (nowadays, people are less likely to blame their mediocre weed for half-assed jams), but largely succeeding, Cruising on Majik Carpets proved the future may look bright for those into rock improve.

Monkey3 are a special case, just like their debut album already suggested a few years ago. They don't look like your average stoner band (where's the hair?), they don't dress like the average stoner band (guitarist Boris seems to hesitate between the Hell's Angels and the local Mob) and they don't sound like your average stoner band. Yet, there are enough elements there for them to qualify as a stoner outfit. They're an instrumental band, specialize in massive grooves infused by heavy psych and post-Sabbath sludge, yet they manage to elude the stereotype. This must be because of their continental isolation, although the presence of a forth member on keyboards/samples (would that be the mysterious Mister Malpropre?) gives them a kind of edge Pink Floyd had in the 70s: it's the combination of warm & fuzzy grooves (desert music, you know) with futurist samples and wicked keyboard-sounds, which almost creates a glacial atmosphere that evokes widescreen ice-covered landscapes or lunar mountain ridges instead of Death Valley sunsets. Even though the band created a wall of sound that almost qualified for the "colossal"-adjective, they also maintained a precision you wouldn't expect, with intricate Tool-inspired interplay, multi-layered sections and quite subtle mood shifts. As on their album, Monkey3 seem to inhabit the region in between Pink Floyd (the space-rock element), Pelican (the epic visions it conjures), Ufomammut (the oppressive heaviness and addition of futurist keyboards) and experimental hardrock. Seeing them live made me realize that not only guitarist Boris is an excellent musician, but that also bassist Picasso (yep) and drummer Walter are forces to be reckoned with, displaying force and refinement. The band tore through their album's highlights - the droning "Last Gamuzao," the Hawkwind-styled "Chillao" and "Narcotic Jam" with impressive guitar parts containing Santana-inspired sustained notes and a cerebral heaviness. For maximum impact, the set perhaps should've been a bit shorter, but since the band was so well received, the two encores were probably nice extras to most people. All this goes to show that their sound and instrumental direction also has their limitations, but even more than that, their set proved that they're really one of the few European bands capable of maintaining a thoroughly personal style and vision in a genre that's often the victim of carelessness, monotony and lazy imitations. Swiss rock is still in good hands, don't worry about that.