There are two good reasons to perform in the dark. One: there has been a power outage. Two: you don’t want the other person to see you naked. Near as I can tell, neither of these situations is occurring as Unknown Mortal Orchestra takes the Doug Fir stage. The room is pitch black, save for a dim click light at each member’s station. Is the band shy, or is this some conceptual art experiment? Are we enveloped in sensory deprivation in order to focus on the music? It’s an interesting concept, but audience members seem to be expending quite a bit of energy to see the shadowy shapes onstage.
For all the darkness, the instruments sound immaculate. These three are talented and can play at lightning speed. They’ve been enjoying quite a bit of buzz lately, and deservedly so from the flashes of Ruban Nielson’s fingers flying nimbly over the fret board. Melodic, hip-shaking tunes emanate from the front of the room. As crisp as the sound is, the vocals are almost inaudible. A syllable peeks through here and there, but there is little to differentiate one song from the next. Cameras flash intermittently, creating an unwelcome and jarring sensation. As these brief bursts of light fill the venue, I can see that the singer has an object haphazardly taped to his microphone. It turns out to be a very strong LED bike light that not only makes the band harder to see, it burns my retinas for an entire song. This band is far too new to get away with conceptual shenanigans, and they’re doing themselves a disservice if this is all for lack of confidence. Until they develop better stage presence, just put on their album and turn off the lights.
Once Unknown Mortal Orchestra slinks away and the room is illuminated again, members of Yuck appear. One is carrying a happy birthday balloon, and hands it to bassist Mariko Doi. It’s her birthday, and she’ll spend it playing for us. Before long, the stage is filled with birthday balloons. They line the ceiling and sit in a cluster between two amps. Amid this celebratory setting, the band begins to play. Yuck has been credited by numerous critics for ushering in a grunge revival. To me, their music sounds like that era of muddled post-Cobain confusion within the music industry, when bands were unsure of the future and the grunge genre was fizzling out. The themes of angst and alienation for which grunge is known are not present in Yuck’s music. Though the songs make liberal use of distortion pedals, they are upbeat and cheerful.
The band begins with “Holing Out” and “The Wall,” with a slightly slower pace on both. Despite the reduced tempo, it’s an album-quality performance. The members clearly haven’t tired of their catalog, and drummer Jonny Rogoff mouths the lyrics as he plays. Later, the somber “Suicide Policeman” is uplifted by a dreamy and distorted mid-song jam session. During a break, the band pauses to strum out a happy birthday to Doi, who grins in appreciation.
Throughout their performance, the band members are concentrating heavily and remain mostly still. The half-full crowd doesn’t move much either, but cheers enthusiastically at the appropriate times. On “Rubber,” the evening’s concluding song, Daniel Blumberg gnashes his teeth and makes snarling expressions as he sings. It meanders into a wild jam session of an outro, punctuated by effects from the many pedals lining the floor. The band’s drummer and bassist exit the stage, leaving the two guitarists to twist at the knobs and draw final noises from them. Yuck’s set ends abruptly, and they leave with no goodbye or encore. Only the echoes remain.
