[Moshe]

Moore energizes NoHo



By: Ian Nelson, Collegian Staff

Posted: 9/19/08

When Thurston Moore stepped to the microphone at the Pearl Street Nightclub on Wednesday night, he didn't exactly exude confidence with his first few words - "We practiced a little bit for this," he said. "Let's see what happens."

After introducing "The Psychic Hearts Band" (including Steve Shelley and a bassist simply referred to as "Mutilation"), Moore dove into his first number, "Elegy for All the Dead Rock Stars." The meandering drones of the two guitars swam with the slowly building drums, eventually cleaning up before rifling into full-on chaos.

Though "Elegy" is actually the final track on Moore's 1995 solo album "Psychic Hearts," Moore chose to jumble the track order, opting to save the title track for last.

The overall tone of the night was one of remembrance, with Moore seeming to get a real kick out of playing songs from his 13-year-old record. "In 1995, I was living in New York City," he explained. "I was deeply in love with my wife; I had a one-year-old kid." Presumably these factors were large influences on the album, which comes across as a deeply affecting romp through Moore's slightly restrained side.

Moore's second piece was the fan favorite "Queen Bee and Her Pals," an angular bounce of sludgy guitars. Moore wasn't trying to fool anyone with his large, handwritten lyric sheets, constantly referring to them throughout the night while he leaned into the microphone.

Next came "Ono Soul," originally the album's second track. He continued chronologically for nearly the rest of the night, following up with "Pretty Bad," but not before mentioning Northampton's loud sound curfew.

"The cops are kinda cool here, in a way," he mused after someone cited the plug-pulling hour as 12:30 a.m. "I like cops actually. I've always had a thing for a man in blue."

"Pretty Bad" might be one of Moore's more metal moments, employing some heavy riffing over a funereal percussion stomp. Moore continued with his comedy, hitting the audience with the sarcastic query "you guys psyched about that Urban Outfitters?"

"Patti Smith Math Scratch" followed, certainly one of the most upbeat tracks of the bunch. Moore really let it out at times, "Patti Smith" included, jumping around while mangling his stickered guitar.

Next up was "Blues From Beyond the Grave," which ended with an all-out cataclysm of cymbals and feedback. This was a shining example of the album's great dynamics, from cluttered, noisy squalls to light, chiming chords.

Again on the noisy side, "See-Through Play/Mate" followed, crunching and clanging along to an eventual grinding halt. Before the next piece, Moore addressed the crowd, going on a bit of a motivational spiel about fathers.

"Your Dad will always be the coolest person in your life," he said. After a pause, he added the warning, "whether you like it or not." Sentimental advice from a 50-year-old, who's still cooler than you? Priceless.

The next number continued with the chaos, as "Hang Out" featured Moore battering his guitar strings as he thrashed about. By this time, he was becoming noticeably sweaty and mentioned craving a "clear drink."

"Once you turn 50, you can't drink anything brown," he explained before admitting "I'm dyin' for a Tanqueray and tonic."

Once a good Samaritan filled his request, Moore jumped into the meat of "Psychic Hearts." After "Feathers," and some banter about the upcoming election ("this one's for the Dems"), the band played the tenth track, "Tranquilizer." Both were supplemented by fervent lyric reference.

Moore had a look of understanding on his face while he interpreted the 13-year-old songs, like looking back on a lost childhood diary. Moore, a decade-and-a-half older, seemed to giggle at his own words self-consciously.

Moore's past self may have seemed funny (or even embarrassing) to him, but it was a hugely appreciated gesture for him to bring the record to life.

Moore introduced the next piece, "Staring Statues," with a story about the title's origin. Apparently it was among a list of band names found in a notebook published by Richard Hell of the Voidoids and Moore agreed, "It's a good band name."

"What song's this?" Moore asked the band moments before the opening guitar part came to him, like remembering a secret handshake. This once again displayed his less-than-pristine memory of his songs, though once he heard one note, he knew where to go.

Further and further down the line of songs, it became apparent that "Psychic Hearts" was truly a means by which Moore could simply rock out. The abstract noise of Sonic Youth was, for the most part, out the window and replaced with calculated loud/soft dynamics and portions set aside to absolutely tear it up.

The only true single from the record followed in the form of "Cindy (Rotten Tanx)." "When Geffen put this record out, they were looking for a single," he said. "There wasn't one."

"Cindy" preceded the subdued "Cherry's Blues," which Moore dedicated to the band Slant 6, whom Moore shared the stage with when "Psychic Hearts" was initially released. "Female Cop" came next, a strange composition of shimmering cymbal rushes, sustained guitar sounds, and other various trembles, murmurs, and clatters.

The last song left from the record was the title track, saved for the end instead of its initial third track position. Lone extra-terrestrial chimes emitted from Moore's guitar before being joined by the rest of the band.

The Psychic Hearts Band encored with the b-side from the "Cindy (Rotten Tanx) 7", "Teenage Buddhist Daydream," which consisted of about a minute's length of the song humorously repeated three times over.

Moore succeeded in holding his status as a very down-to-Earth guitar deity, even going so far as to trade "Psychic Hearts" vinyl reissues for dollar bills. Near-classics like this are far from a dime a dozen, and it's a vastly cherished trend to perform entire records at shows (let alone give them away for so cheap).

Moore is set to perform the record again at New York's version of the ATP festival this weekend, using Northampton to provide a solid taste of what he'll offer in Monticello.