Spring Break
A less-than royal Chum's show
by Dan Forman
Music | 3/13/07
Posted online at 11:07 PM EST on 3/12/07
"Call in call out-collinear. Go insane!" No, you probably won't hear those lyrics at the clubs as a call to go crazy on the dance floor. They are the words of Chad Matheny, singer/songwriter/guitarist of Emperor X, a Florida band that delivered an acoustic serenade at Cholmondeley's Thursday.
The band utilized everything from car keys to cassette players in a desperate attempt to recreate the electric wonder of his album and perhaps take the audience's mind off of Matheny's tiny, warped acoustic and his bandmate's lonely, booming floor tom. "Huge amps and PA's cost money," Matheny replied, when asked if he ever considered going electric onstage. "And our van's not big enough to hold it all. Plus you have to deal with more bitchy sound guys." It was a logical response, coming from a working musician.
The duo obviously believed that first impressions are key for performances in order to earn the respect of the crowd. In his first song, "Hardwood Floor," Matheny flicked a switch on his handheld cassette player. From it emerged a jangling, discordant sound which Matheny believed was worthy of rhythmic clapping from the audience as he laid down some vocal lines to it.
The rest of the set consisted of songs with accented eighth-note guitar strumming which the drummer mimicked with paradiddles on his tom. They couldn't get any more intricate with the equipment they had but Matheny seemed above all to place prime importance in the level of reverb or echo in his microphone.
Matheny's vocal style consisted of stretching syllables just beyond comprehensibility in a whining manner to crescendo into a flurry of falsetto wails for the choruses. His tone can best be likened to that of Sean Nelson of Harvey Danger. The lyrics themselves range from sheer gibberish-"adventus Christian planetarium sanctuary cut tremendous friction in the cultiveratorium" in "Right to the Rails"-to simple, bare truth stories of Witchitaw and obnoxiously smart classmates.
If the desired effect of their sound was to put the audience into a trancelike state as if it were flying slowly through the air with a sense of subdued imagery, then mission accomplished. The crowd seemed to appreciate the improvised nature of the set and was thrilled when the band played requests such as Nirvana's "Smells Like Teen Spirit."
The facial expressions of the audience during most songs, however, evolved from hesitant interest in the beginning to tired looks of total indifference by the end-typical blank stares with which I, being in a band, am very much familiar. There were some head nods and mild body gyrations, but the most positive responses came with the hearty applause after each song.
The band utilized everything from car keys to cassette players in a desperate attempt to recreate the electric wonder of his album and perhaps take the audience's mind off of Matheny's tiny, warped acoustic and his bandmate's lonely, booming floor tom. "Huge amps and PA's cost money," Matheny replied, when asked if he ever considered going electric onstage. "And our van's not big enough to hold it all. Plus you have to deal with more bitchy sound guys." It was a logical response, coming from a working musician.
The duo obviously believed that first impressions are key for performances in order to earn the respect of the crowd. In his first song, "Hardwood Floor," Matheny flicked a switch on his handheld cassette player. From it emerged a jangling, discordant sound which Matheny believed was worthy of rhythmic clapping from the audience as he laid down some vocal lines to it.
The rest of the set consisted of songs with accented eighth-note guitar strumming which the drummer mimicked with paradiddles on his tom. They couldn't get any more intricate with the equipment they had but Matheny seemed above all to place prime importance in the level of reverb or echo in his microphone.
Matheny's vocal style consisted of stretching syllables just beyond comprehensibility in a whining manner to crescendo into a flurry of falsetto wails for the choruses. His tone can best be likened to that of Sean Nelson of Harvey Danger. The lyrics themselves range from sheer gibberish-"adventus Christian planetarium sanctuary cut tremendous friction in the cultiveratorium" in "Right to the Rails"-to simple, bare truth stories of Witchitaw and obnoxiously smart classmates.
If the desired effect of their sound was to put the audience into a trancelike state as if it were flying slowly through the air with a sense of subdued imagery, then mission accomplished. The crowd seemed to appreciate the improvised nature of the set and was thrilled when the band played requests such as Nirvana's "Smells Like Teen Spirit."
The facial expressions of the audience during most songs, however, evolved from hesitant interest in the beginning to tired looks of total indifference by the end-typical blank stares with which I, being in a band, am very much familiar. There were some head nods and mild body gyrations, but the most positive responses came with the hearty applause after each song.
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