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On Monday they set up a nice drone as Elisa grappled with her axe and stomped on various effects boxes in pursuit of the next best distortionary vista.
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Their notoriously wild no-wave free rock thrashings have been toned down for their new record (entitled Boss) as a Sonic Youth-esque mélange of hovering keys, screechy scrawly guitar played in disjointed atonal fracture swipes, and improvised this-and-that vocal puh from lead singer Elisa Ambrogio. Later when they got on stage and began juicing the ole schtick I had no chance to voice them. Naturally I kept my objections to myself. The Markers were flat out nice people we got to chatting about our childhood drawing styles but after enthusing about the notorious Nebraskan basement drywall fiasco of ’86 they revealed a virulent strain of anti-Crayolaism that belied their polite mannerisms and sugar-sweet veneers. Their debut album of 2006, Pleasures and Treasures, has been hailed as the sound of “total amateurs zapped on Robitussin, bashing out a primal fusion of Sixties garage rock and deliriously distorted psychedelia (think early Spacemen 3/Sonic Youth)” by my confrere Justin Farrar of the Miami New Times, and I by and large found such to be the case! Yes, Pleasures and Treasures proved itself right on both measures I knew I’d found my new source of leisure.
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The pal I’d brought along thought they outright sucked, but he also loves Phil Collins, so what the hell does he know? Despite all this, they still chunked out some reverb-heavy, melodic stop-start garage-psych tunes that had my head a-hummin’ and my toes a-wigglin’. It was a Monday night and a disappointingly low number of people showed up the Sic Alps were also plagued by broken strings, the drummer cutting his finger and feedback that threatened to overwhelm their sound. But put me in a room with them and let me see how pathetically simple their getup is and you might just crush my cynical, cynical spirit. Windy sighs would be heard from my cloistered cell and you’d marvel at the idiot strength of my patience for semi-inept noise/psych bashings. Hand me their records and I’ll amuse myself for hours like a happy rottweiler with a fresh side of moose. I guess I’ll start off by saying that both headlining bands (Sic Alps and the Magik Markers) are hip/hyped lo-fi garage noise acts that appeal exclusively to narrow/open-minded electric guitar addicts such as myself and that I was favorably inclined toward them in the first place. Do I ever feel ambivalent about this show.