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author: Guy

BRANT BJORK AND THE BROS (US) and NICK OLIVERI (US) in Sojo's

INTERVIEW NICK OLIVERI
INTERVIEW BRANT BJORK

CONCERT REVIEW
Even though Brant Bjork and his band had already played at one of the Sojo’s “stoner sessions”, this night was gonna be even more exceptional. The question whether Kyuss invented stoner or not is something people still obsess over, but it’s a fact that they were without question one of the best and important bands the genre ever spawned (who’s gonna deny that?)… and when you get two of the original members giving their all in good ole drowsy Belgium, at a venue where stoner and related genres have always been important, you know it’s a kind of special occasion.

Anyway, after Homme recently ousted Nick Oliveri from the Queens of the Stone Age, Bjork picked him up to do a series of gigs throughout the US and finally also Europe. Even though he’s quite illustrious because of his ‘unconventional’ stage antics and intense attitude, Oliveri’s short set would prove him to be more than capable of doing dissimilar stuff as well. The crowd already cheered when he’d barely stepped on stage (bare-chested, wearing sneakers, cigarette dangling from mouth), but in the next 40 minutes or so, he proved that there’s essentially not that much of a difference between the guy with the acoustic guitar and the screaming maniac standing in front of a stack of amplifiers.

Nick Oliveri isn’t the world’s most optimistic guy, as most of his lyrics are obsessed with death and other cheery stuff, but he succeeded in creating a easy-going intimacy (he has that in common with his friend Mark Lanegan), despite the fact he occasionally came off as a possessed folkie trying to ward off his demons. Among the songs he played: “So High, So Low” and “I Want You to Die”, after which he launched into a superb version of the Queens’ dark “Gonna Leave You.” Other Mondo-songs he did were “The Day I Die” and “Detroit,” a tribute to his grandfather. With only an acoustic guitar “Another Love Song” sounded different than the garage-styled version on Songs for the Deaf, but it was fine nevertheless. However, the best was kept until the end, when Nick delivered an intense and threatening version of Roky Erickson’s sinister “Bloody Hammer,” after which he closed his set with “Auto Pilot,” joined by Brant Bjork on bass and Mike Peffer (of the Bros) on drums. Even though it’s kinda weird to see the guy doing stuff like that, he gave a good performance, showing there is life after the Queens, and it needn’t be less rewarding.

Those who were present during the previous Sojo-gig by Brant Bjork & the Bros (October 25th 2003) already told me I’d missed a great show and was gonna be in for something special, but boy, I wouldn’t have dared to think I was gonna get something THIS GOOD.
Bjork’s probably more identified with his tenure in Kyuss (whom he left at age 19, as already one of the most influential drummers of the ‘90’s) and Fu Manchu than anything else, but he’s carved out his own niche as well in the meantime, participating in diverse projects/bands (Mondo Generator, Desert Sessions, power trio Che with Alfredo Hernandez and Unida’s Dave Dinsmore) and making his own albums. He’s released three solo albums so far (Jalamanta in 1999, Brant Bjork & the Operators in 2002, and Keep Your Cool last year), and fortunately he does not try to reconstruct the ‘formula’ of his previous bands. Granted, there’s still the laidback pothead desert vibe (but that’s where he grew up), but instead of the bludgeoning, throbbing blasts of Kyuss, you get a funky blend of soul, rock, psych, with the vibe of reggae, jazzy accents and straightforward hard rock riffs added for good measure. By themselves, these influences are rather unsurprising (who has come up with something entirely new the past decades?), but the guy has already created a unique blend of those ingredients that is as compelling, hypnotic and groovy as any of his previous bands. It works excellent on record, it works brilliantly on stage.

Brant Bjork had already announced that the mob was gonna be in for something special, the gig being the last leg of the European tour (though they’ll be back this summer), but I bet few people expected a 140-minute groove-fest that caused a collective weight loss of at least 750 pounds. From the extended intro “Lazy Bones” onwards, it became clear that the audience was in for a sweaty night, as the band seemed capable of turning each groove into a ludicrously sexy charmer. After the opening, the band kicked off with the huge riff of “Automatic Fantastic,” which really turned the crowd wild (and that’s five minutes into the set).

It immediately became obvious that Bjork had assembled one hell of a band, a unit that communicated in a hypnotic musical language that only the best ones out there are capable of. I already knew he was an accomplished guitar player (he didn’t touch the drums), but his colleagues were equally fascinating to watch: bass player Dylan Roche looked like a member of the Bad Brains Mk. 1 with the coolness of 5 pounds of deep-frozen shrimps and delivered the best foundation Bjork could hope for; drummer Mike Peffer can handle anything in between jazzy accents, funky swing and thunderous drum assaults; while brand new member and guitar player ‘Cortez’ proved to be the perfect match for Bjork. It’s not that easy to describe the band’s sound, but maybe you should try to imagine something like a cocktail of Hendrix (great guitar licks and sound), Sly Stone (unstoppable grooves), Thin Lizzy (simple, yet effective riffs and great interplay), Kyuss, and a psych jamming band. Also, as became clear during the trippy “Cobra Jab,” Bjork’s live sound is much more massive on stage than on record. Kudos should also go to the sound guy, who gave the band one of the best sounds that I ever heard, anywhere.

Anyway, the band delivered one riff monster after the other, switching from one trance-like groove to the next, until they almost became one with the fluid mass the audience had become. “Low Desert Punk,” another highlight of Jalamanta was turned into a relentless sonic blast, while “Too Many Chiefs… Not Enough Indians” with its smooth vocals was the perfect introduction to the irresistible funk-blues of “I Miss My Chick,” which boasts the best repeated groove since, yeah since when? It went on like that: fiery solos, booming drum parts, riffs that made people dance, sing along, drink, sweat, bang their heads and party hard. The hilarious “Monkey Boy” was turned into a fucked-up 20-minute jam when Nick suddenly jumped on stage to sing and bop with the band. It was followed by “Johnny Called,” also from Keep You Cool, which received the ‘classic moment’-tag when Bjork dedicated it to John Garcia, a member in the audience yelled “WHO THE FUCK IS JOHN GARCIA?” and Bjork replied in a deadpan way with “One of the best rock singers of your generation!” The groove machine then tore through “My Ghettoblaster,” and “Rock-n-Rol’e,” reaching another thrilling highlight when “Hydraulicks” from the Che-album transformed into Kyuss’ “Gardenia” with Nick returning to roar those familiar lines “Smell my shit eating grin on the skin of my world, SIX HUNDRED SIXTY SIX MILES PER HOUR!”

It was at this moment, when the band completely transcended itself and awesome interplay became a natural thing that I once again realized that there’s basically nothing (oh well, maybe one of two things, you know ‘em) that beats live music when all the circumstances are right. The smoke of cigarettes, pot and beer, sticky backs and pearls of sweat on foreheads, a crowd that like one entity responds to what’s delivered on stage. It can be a blast, and it was last Thursday. It had already been awesome, but of course there came an encore (well, two): first “Cheap Wine,” probably the most accessible, pop-styled song Bjork has ever recorded, and next an extended jam (“Sounds of Liberation”) with long spoken word-parts by Bjork, who dedicated it to Dave Weindorf and Monster Magnet’s inspiring Spine of God, telling about Kyuss’ genesis and what it meant to him. The second encore was another 15-minute workout (“Sun Brother”?) that got about everybody in a trance they only came out of well after the concert had finished. I had a short chat with Bjork before the show and he seemed so cool and carefree that I wondered whether he was gonna be able of pulling off a truly mind-blowing set, but he did, that broad smile of him never leaving his face. Backed by a terrific band, occasionally helped out by a soul brother, and propelled by an audience that must’ve had goose bumps despite the heat, Brant Bjork was the ultimate example of the powers of rock ‘n’ roll. ‘FANTASTIC’ is the only word that matters.


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