Many have used some combination of two or three of the following words to describe Genghis Tron: hard, metal, electro, math, thrash, core, death, grind, extreme, black, rock, punk, post, et cetera and so forth in the manner of descriptive adjectives. But let’s forget about labels for a moment and focus on the fact that they can rock the house armed with only one guitarist, a couple keyboards, and a drum track.
Allow me to set a scene: The first band, Dissappearer, sets the mood for the night with throbbing bass melodies that have probably already been going off inside most of the heads of the sparse Great Scott’s crowd since they woke up with their Sunday morning hangovers. They do a good job of not making too much high pitched noise as the Allston regulars dive into their first couple of beers.
Then the drums come off the stage, and I get excited. I’ve seen Genghis Tron three times now. The first was a few years back at a small show WZBC put on in a Boston College dorm to scare the Burberry girls, and I was impressed with the fact that they didn’t use a drummer, yet wasn’t impressed with much else. The second time was a few months ago at the Middle East when they were able to hold their own against the headlining Dillinger Escape Plan. They’ve come a long way in a few short years, and even further in the past few months, releasing a new album, Board Up the House, just last week.
After two other drummer-less bands, Mookie Singerman, Genghis Tron’s vocalist, hides behind giant spectacles as he helps the band set up their stage for the record release show. He reminds me of an old roommate I had who would spend all day quietly reading and then surprise you by busting out a dozen handstand-pushups in the hallway. He starts the set by requesting that the house lights be turned off; the band brought their own backdrop of multi-colored florescent lights set to go off in time with the music.
Once they’re a few songs in, Mookie notes how they enjoy when bands with drummers are outnumbered by those without, since it “makes [them] feel less like pariahs.” But as soon as the band ripped into their first song, the title track from their new album, they immediately distinguished themselves from all the other more laid back, amateur acts of the evening. Unlike the previous two beat-box riddled bands, they’re able to get away with not having a drummer, normally so integral a part of any hardcore/metal outfit. And the meticulously perfected, pre-recorded drum beats (set in time with the wonderfully entertaining flashing lights), simply provide a springboard for Genghis Tron to perform backflips off of. They’re able to add a human element to the computer-rendered effects which could easily fall stale without the band's high energy performance.
Unlike the Austerity Program’s sad attempt at hardcore (basically playing the same note measure after measure over a drum beat that might as well have been a metronome), Genghis Tron barely finishes experimenting with one riff before starting on the next one, flipping between ambient interludes and quick-fire thrash like someone flipped a switch. As soon as they lay something down and you think you know where they’re going with it, they go someplace completely different. A metaphor: If their music were a car, it would speed through your neighborhood, hit your dog, circle back to apologize, and then kick you in the face while insulting your grandmother’s homemade biscuits before driving off again with your sister in the passenger seat. And on top of that, their musicianship is truly polished and on point. They sing “things don’t look good,” but I’m led to believe the opposite’s true for these guys.
This band is well-aware of what it takes to make things happen in the music industry, and they aren’t afraid to put in the hard work. On top of that, they’re eager to go everywhere at once; from experimental to metal to dance-rock to hardcore to jazz to thrash to mathcore, all in front of a very well planned light show. Perfect for any short attention span.
So keep your eye on Genghis Tron, if just for the fact that they’re the only ones who seem to actually know wherever the hell it is that they’re headed; it’ll sure be to someplace interesting. If they were a Robert Frost poem, they’d have already bulldozed their own road through the forest, too busy running down woodland creatures and knocking over trees to worry about the next superficial genre-label thrown their way.
