week of 4/10/02
 
 
 

Sound Tribe Sector 9 — oh so good to the ear
By Hunter Pope
Who: Sound tribe Sector 9
Where: Asheville Music Zone
When: Friday, April 12 at 9 pm
How Much: $12 advance, $15 door


Where to begin? Usually I have my wits about me when a CD review’s on the line. The outline is simple — “What are some new booties of music the artist is plundering; production mistrials; a generic genre label; instrumental hotspots; what the lyrics are trying to say; and what the music means to me.”

That is, until I came across Sound Tribe Sector 9’s new double live album, Seasons 01.

New booties of music? Difficult to say.

Production mistrials? Sorry, I can’t find a speck of dirt there. The CD was done strictly within the confines of the Soundtribe family. There was no production team to nitpick artistic integrity, no record label to gobble up every wisp of capital, no distributors or snake-tongued promoters, and no outside influences to taint the music pool.

Generic genre? An irritated Miles Davis once told a reporter that he wasn’t making jazz; he was making music. Sound tribe seems to be following that same tradition. The quintet has been tossed through a Cuisinart of labels — jamband, rave band, jazz-fusion, techno, and (probably the most accurate) trance fusion, which implements sounds of the jam community (i.e. Grateful Dead, Widespread Panic) with the trip-hop beats of the rave community (i.e. Disco Biscuits, The New Deal).

But even trance fusion misses the point. Sound Tribe sees themselves as portals for the music to stride through. The intention is not noodling to ecstacy, nor how many hot licks they can lay down for the honeys in the front row. Instincts take over, and sounds from all over the stratosphere congregate in each member’s body before materializing onto the channeled instrument and into every orifice of the dancing faithful.

Instrumental hotspots? Geez, that’s like trying to find a snowflake with the best pattern. Even improvisation can be seen as a vulgar word for Sound Tribe. Although improv means freedom, sometimes it can be confined to two categories — “where am I going to go?” and “how the hell am I going to get out of this?” Sound Tribe does not question. What happens is all that matters. The purity does not lie on how many cords are stuffed into one stanza. The clarity comes from whatever sound ushers next. Seasons 01 is primal. Seven of the songs were played for the first time live, and the band members confided that some of these songs might never surface again. It’s all about the now.

Lyrics? It would just get in the way

How did “Seasons 1” make me feel? How about angry, creative, joyful, introverted ... reflective. “Seasons 1” is a perfect road partner on vacant highways where tumbleweeds rule unbridled; it can calm your wayward receptors during those problematic periods of studying block; or it can be music to sit back to and ponder every atom and event that courses through your life. There are no words on “Seasons 01” (save for the occasional sample from one of their friends — more on that later), just a cascade of sounds that define the flow of the universe.

And that’s exactly the attitude this quintet portrays. Much of STS9’s spirituality resides from the ancient Mayan culture. Sound Tribe stands for the whole crew, everyone that’s involved in helping create the art form. Sector 9, also known as The Ninth Baktun, is a period of time from 435-830 A.D., at the height of the Mayan civilization, where caring and an open consciousness about the Earth and its people transcended upon the people. The band also tries to reflect their lives around the Mayan calendar, which is based on an entirely different system (13 moon cycles) from the one the modern world follows. Many believe it’s the natural way to record time and the 12-month calendar we follow is false (cynics of the Mayan calendar need only to look at our leap years to know this is true). The members of STS9 try to follow these Mayan guidelines because it gives them a natural timing, a way to flow through the debris life throws at them.

“The main focus with that is really the 13 moons,” said conga player Jeffree Lerner in a past interview with the Smoky Mountain News. “By acknowledging that it exists, it has an effect on our conscience.”

Of course, for the music to stream unabated, one must be sound of spirit ... as well as being insanely gifted. Founders Hunter Brown (guitar) and David Murphy (bass) have been twining their sounds since their teenage years; and, along with keyboardist David Phipps, the trio morphs their music into soundscapes that explain the innards of mortality.

“Backing them up” is a percussion outfit that would have given the late Tito Puente the cold sweats. Drummer Zach Velmer is a study in blur. He has been known to lay down 180 beats per minute during one of many intense musical forays. Conga player Jeffree Lerner was tutored by the great percussionist Jeff Sipe (aka Apt.Q238 of Aquarium Rescue Unit and Leftover Salmon), as well as serving a two-year stint with Leftover.

After the success of the studio album, “Offered Schematics Suggesting Peace” (which one fan coined, “the almost perfect soundtrack for life”), it only seemed appropriate that a live disc would follow. All the tracks come from 2001 (with one track, “Good for Everyday” coming from their show at the Asheville Music Zone) and each one is emotionally different from the next. One thing that stayed consistent were the goosebumps that pimpled my skin while listening to this two-hour plus offering. The sounds converse with each other in a swirling language that’s impossible to interpret in human speak, but easy to discern instrumentally. That is, once you understand the “modes.”

Confused? Sound tribe’s definitions of modes have to do with the vibrations, or circulatory system, of the world. Some days they’ll be in a mode related to the season. Other days they’ll be in the mood for a certain key, like “G.” It’s whatever they’re feeling that day: “I need to be constantly open to what’s coming in,” Zach Velmer told Jambase.com’s The Kayceman. “Listening to new music. And just vibing with it. Ya know for example, I got up and broke dance in Chicago. That’s something I haven’t done in a really long time. Because I was feeling it. And my mom was like, ‘I read that you got up and danced. You’ve done that five times. Why won’t you do it when I can see you?’ It’s like mom, ‘I gotta feel it.’ It’s not like, I’m gonna do this tonight. This is what we’re gonna do in our show. They had no idea; my boys had no idea. It’s just being open. Open channels, and it carries over to life.”

The opening track, “Gift for Gaia” (from New Orleans) was summoned on Sept. 13 — just a smattering of days after the national tragedy. You can feel the claustrophobic intensity of the first minute, before the band relaxes and finds a gorgeous groove. “Gaia” has sadness to it among the tidal sounds, but it also seems like a peace offering, a way to carry on. This gift is one of a kind, and probably the only way to hear it again is by pressing repeat:

“That’s not even a song,” Velmer told Jambase. “We’ll probably never play it again. (Laughing). We haven’t yet. And that’s what’s really cool about a lot of our stuff too, is that you’ll never hear some of that stuff ever again. Because that was the moment, and to release it, that’s what it’s all about.”

The other highlight of the first disc is the 20-minute marathon, “Ramone and Emiglio” (from Pittsburgh). David Murphy begins the lush journey with bass licks of bi-polar descent. Delicate and nasty at the same time, Murphy leads the journey as the other members fall in line for perhaps the highlight of the two discs. In between the explorations, a vocal sample rises out of the mist — “Here we are, here we are, here we are, here and now.” The female voice only adds petrol to the fiery energy that “R and E” exudes.

Hunter Brown proves himself to be a guitar guru with nary a solo on “R and E.” He knows his place, and his guitar shoe ties through the number with relaxed dexterity. Velmer is an absolute beast on this track. Don’t attempt to keep up with his beats. It’s like trying to pick up a greased fox. And don’t let me forget keyboardist Phipps. If there’s a leader, he might be the closest one. His keyboard follows when necessary, but when he takes charge the song becomes his personality (if only for a scant moment). Phipps provides mood swings on “R and E,” each one more arousing than a soap opera marathon. At the finale, the song returns to an old proving ground — “Here we are,” the verdant voice reminds us, “here and now.”

Absolutely perfect.

Highlights of the second disc include the ethereal “Equinox” (from Boulder) and the sinister “Thread” (also from Boulder). “Equinox’s” sound is exactly as it suggests. Change is always a mystery and STS9 uses their instruments to shuffle through the clues. Guitarist Brown lays down some seriously soft notes in this number, leading a quintet wave that rises and falls as the Equinox draws near. It’s perhaps the most eloquent tune on the album, leaving the listener in a puddled state.

It’s hard to call STS9’s music dark, but “Thread” has a way of streaking that lightness. There’s an urgency throughout, as each member defies the usual “sit back and wait” to lay down some serious jams — kind of like Gandhi playing speed metal. “Thread” may not be their most peaceful, but it shows how talented and open-minded this band is. Pay special attention to Lerner’s percussion work on “Thread.” The tribal rhythm helps dilute what is otherwise a very intense 15 minutes.

The album appropriately ends with “Breach” (Portland, Maine). In the background, you actually hear the sample sounds of whales “breaching.” The band had gone down to the ocean one day and recorded whale sounds with a DAT and microphone. They then put it onto a computer and applied it into a live show.

I can’t think of a better way to examine the mysteries of the world than through the eyes of tides and whales. It’s a fitting ending to an album that explains the cycles of life with nary a word to stand in the way.

(Hunter Pope can be reached at w.h.pope@worldnet.att.net)