Three Imaginary Girls - Morcheeba

SIFF Exploding Cinema presents The Nortec Collective

baristaboy — Thu, 12 Jun 2003 07:00:00 +0000

7 Jun 2003

Having been invited to attend the Nortec Collective show with embracey and then realizing I had absolutely NO idea who the Nortec Collective were, I decided to do a little research. I borrowed my favorite IB's copy of their disc "The Tijuana Sessions Vol. 1" and was immediately hooked (I'll talk more about the music in a moment).

Referring to the CD jacket, I promptly logged on to norteccollective.com... which took me to a gay porn site. I thought perhaps that The Nortec Collective was a band that did instrumental tracks for porn movies. (What had embracey gotten me into? Was this what was meant by SIFF Exploding Cinema?) Once the improbability of this idea sunk in, a quick web search took me where I wanted to go. (And for those inclined to immediately stop reading this article to visit the aforementioned URL, DON'T...it's not a good porn site, but rather one that traps you in pop-up-window HELL.)

Once I got all the pop-ups closed I learned that The Nortec Collective is NOT a band name, group name, or even an artist's name. It is a collective of a variety of artists - musicians, graphic artists, architects, even fashion designers - who are promoting a new movement in music and art: Nortec. That is actually a hybrid of the words "norteño" (literally "of the north", generally referring to a traditional form of Mexican music out of Tijuana) and, of course, "techno." It is a blend of Old World and New World; of minimalist instruments and advanced technology; of sight and sound. And never have such seemingly disparate worlds collided with such extraordinary results.

Armed with my new knowledge ('cause knowledge is power!) I was very excited as we entered the Showbox. Embracey had been able to get us "on the list" and I was excited about being a "VIP" at this event. (Hey, it's not often a boy who steams milk for a living gets to be the VIP at anything!) After a little snafu at the ticket counter (first being told we "weren't on the list" then discovering we were listed as a strange amalgam of both of our last names) we proceeded directly to the VIP area, an elevated stage with its own bar and tables and chairs.

With warm-up tunes by Morcheeba pounding in my ears, I noted the stage: three huge screens, currently reflecting a simple blue background with a small videotape icon in the center; and a long table spread with computers, turntables, and lots of cords. While waiting for the show to start, we were greeted by lovely SIFF publicity guru Amanda Bedell, who informed us that her secret for keeping her sanity during the SIFF madness were Red Bull and a shopping spree at the Aveda counter. The thought that I could have missed this information had I not been a VIP chilled me... how much more had I missed in my "general admission" income bracket? While I pondered this, the screen began to flash images, the unmistakably nortec sound began to pulsate, and tonight's representatives of the Nortec Collective (Roberto Mendoza, Jose Morales, Ramon Amezcua, and Sergio Brown) took the stage.

There was something mysteriously, instantly captivating about them. The images, the sounds, the colors, the layers, all came together to form something (I've said it before, I'll say it again) extraordinary. I use that word because the on-screen images were often of everyday objects: billboards, graffiti, crowds, vehicles, faces, buildings. But the way the vibrant images were manipulated and mixed with the rhythms and hooks of the music made these ordinary objects extraordinary.

Most visuals presented with techno music are images for images' sake. At best, a much-needed diversion during a drug-induced state; at worst, an annoying distraction. But the Nortec Collective knew precisely what they wanted you to think and feel and combined the music and images accordingly. And it worked. The supposedly non-emotional, mechanical nature of techno suddenly became very engrossing, engaging, and emotional. Now I understood why the Seattle International Film Festival included it as one of their "Exploding Cinema" features. It was explosive.

From the moment they took the stage until the moment I left, I was completely engaged. I hardly remember seeing anyone or anything else during that time. The Nortec Collective is what the marriage of audio and video should be. I can only hope their next release includes an accompanying DVD. Forget self-promotional album-infomercial "music videos". I have seen the future of art, and it came from, of all places, Tijuana.

(By the way, if you're wanting to know the correct URL for The Nortec Collective, it's http://www.nor-tec.org. And, if you'd like a URL to a good, no pop-ups gay porn site, e-mail me.)

Referring to the CD jacket, I promptly logged on to norteccollective.com... which took me to a gay porn site.

Morcheeba

imaginary embracey — Thu, 06 Feb 2003 08:00:00 +0000

5 Feb 2003

morcheeba.jpeg

Morcheeba first came to me at a lame Little Rock potluck dinner party in summer 1998. Somehow the pretentious, borderline-moron host (who hadn't exercised the good sense to stock up on beverages of any kind — and for this and many other things I will never forgive him) had come across a deliciously layered chill-electro powerhouse, a cozy and vibrant triphop soundscape that warmed my prickly heart.

As it turns out, that album was the gorgeously downtempo masterpiece Big Calm. As I noshed hummus and sipped tap water from a chipped coffee mug (that's right — no clean glasses or even Dixie cups at this shindig) the dreamy vocals of Skye Edwards brought me a little peace. I even managed to say something nice to the otherwise unadmirable host as the party ended and I headed to a record shop down the street.

I had soon procured the band's lovely 1996 debut release Who Can You Trust?, its trippy ambience more quietly captivating. Then 2000 brought the misguided Fragments of Freedom, a somewhat disillusioning exercise that replaced the first two albums' groove and languorous soulfulness with occasional bright glimpses in a sea of wannabe-rap, faux-gospel and R&B-lite.

I blamed it on that party host from two years before. Somehow he was responsible.

But last summer when I began hearing the charming single "Otherwise" on KEXP, my hope in Morcheeba was restored. Soon came the new full-length Charango, a beautiful hodgepodge of everything the band had given us before — wistfully convoluted vibes, tranquil rhythms, and (this time) well-integrated hiphop influences. A glorious return to form. So I was excited to see them live at the Moore.

Skye and the 5-piece band began with two Big Calm numbers, "The Sea" and "Friction". It wasn't long until my opera glasses (read: mini binoculars) were completely fogged by my heavy-breathing companion for the evening, who asks to be identified only as Invisible Telle.

"I love her," purred IT, drawn (as, I admit, was I) by Skye's all-but-otherworldly stage presence. Wearing a simple glittery black dress that presented taut, toned arms and a remarkably statuesque figure (incredible for such a small woman), she swayed and grooved delicately and sublimely, like the ethereal figure she most certainly is.

"Beautiful. But married," continued IT, jiggling her left-hand ring finger. "This makes me want to cry."

I personally remained dry-eyed, but could relate.

Next up was an extra-gritty version of the early tune "Tape Loop", followed by an exquisite rendition of "Otherwise". An amazing beginning to an amazing set — a skillful combination of old and new.

Top three life-changing moments:

"It's All Part of the Process", which began with a country-tinged guitar solo and continued with even more infectious delta twang than the album version. The stellar band was in superb form. I loved.
"Get Along", my favorite Charango track. I became fantastically lost in the melody and lyric ("Staggering with no desire, I lose to watch you win"), and just as I began to wonder who would perform the Pace Won rap featured in the latter part of the song... Pace Won himself burst onstage! He efficiently (if rambunctiously) proceeded to raise da roof, yo. Utterly thrilling.
The surprises: they continued when the closing chords of another new track, "Public Displays of Affection," melded seamlessly into a fabulous cover of — are you ready for this? — Dolly Parton's "Jolene"! I kid you not. Phenomenal stuff.

After an incredible 1.5-hour set (and the longest pre-encore applause I've ever endured as an audience member) Pace Won returned briefly but energetically to perform his solo Charango title track. Soon Skye took center stage again, ever casting her mystifying spell, winding down with "Undress Me Now" (IT would have gladly obliged) and ending with the crowd-pleasing inspirational "Rome Wasn't Built in a Day."

I left the cramped Moore balcony with a sense of peace and elation and thought back to that fateful dinner party. The Morcheeba magic was almost enough to make me reconsider my nearly-five-year-old grudge and pardon the Host with the Least.

But just almost.

Morcheeba first came to me at a lame Little Rock potluck dinner party in summer 1998.