As the sole dream weaver behind last year’s most gorgeous record Dragging a Dead Deer Up a Hill, Portland, Oregon’s Liz Harris aka Grouper held the decently sized crowd at Whammy spellbound with her brand of ghostly, nebulous drone-pop. She cut a waifish, slightly reticent, bird-like figure on-stage, softly pawing her electric guitar through simple chord progressions while her spine-chilling vocals, layered via looping pedals, filled the room, harmonizing with itself into clusters of pillowy, ethereal sound. The set was perhaps on the short side at 40 minutes, but nonetheless darkly captivating stuff to bliss out to. The rarely performing Pumice opened charmingly ramshackle as ever. Fuzzy, crackling, and always seeming on the verge of falling apart, his unstable, feedback-riddled lo-fi ditties had that subterranean quality that made him an apt complement to Grouper’s otherworldliness. (Real Groove, April '09)
Friday, April 17, 2009
Live Review: Grouper & Pumice
Been meaning to put this up... here's my review of the Grouper/Pumice show at Whammy on March 12.
As the sole dream weaver behind last year’s most gorgeous record Dragging a Dead Deer Up a Hill, Portland, Oregon’s Liz Harris aka Grouper held the decently sized crowd at Whammy spellbound with her brand of ghostly, nebulous drone-pop. She cut a waifish, slightly reticent, bird-like figure on-stage, softly pawing her electric guitar through simple chord progressions while her spine-chilling vocals, layered via looping pedals, filled the room, harmonizing with itself into clusters of pillowy, ethereal sound. The set was perhaps on the short side at 40 minutes, but nonetheless darkly captivating stuff to bliss out to. The rarely performing Pumice opened charmingly ramshackle as ever. Fuzzy, crackling, and always seeming on the verge of falling apart, his unstable, feedback-riddled lo-fi ditties had that subterranean quality that made him an apt complement to Grouper’s otherworldliness. (Real Groove, April '09)
As the sole dream weaver behind last year’s most gorgeous record Dragging a Dead Deer Up a Hill, Portland, Oregon’s Liz Harris aka Grouper held the decently sized crowd at Whammy spellbound with her brand of ghostly, nebulous drone-pop. She cut a waifish, slightly reticent, bird-like figure on-stage, softly pawing her electric guitar through simple chord progressions while her spine-chilling vocals, layered via looping pedals, filled the room, harmonizing with itself into clusters of pillowy, ethereal sound. The set was perhaps on the short side at 40 minutes, but nonetheless darkly captivating stuff to bliss out to. The rarely performing Pumice opened charmingly ramshackle as ever. Fuzzy, crackling, and always seeming on the verge of falling apart, his unstable, feedback-riddled lo-fi ditties had that subterranean quality that made him an apt complement to Grouper’s otherworldliness. (Real Groove, April '09)
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