author: Guy

Colour Haze, Josiah, Titty Twister in Den Hemel, Zichem, September 29th

CONCERT REVIEW

Local band Titty Twister – who are only half as naughty as they’ll have you believe with a name like that – kicked off the proceedings with a brief set of workmanlike stoner-boogie that’s manna from heaven for anyone even remotely interested in 70s based blues-rock and sleazy hard-rock with a backbone. They take their inspiration from powerhouse bands like Mountain, Cream and Grand Funk Railroad, but largely ignore the rules of extended jamming, opting to infuse their brief explosions of ballsy cock-rock with a healthy dose of modern groove instead. As such, they have actually more in common with John Garcia’s post-Kyuss projects (Slo Burn, Unida, Hermano) or bands like Pawnshop and El Caco, churning out red-hot boogie instead of committing themselves to monumental space jams (unlike the headlining act). Contrary to what you might presume, this is actually an asset. Their brand of retro-rock thrives more on gut feeling, sound and groove than structures, melodies and infectious hooks, and by avoiding to indulge themselves in risky excess, they managed to keep their set fresh. Since I saw them for the first time, they’ve incorporated a bunch of new songs into their set – most of which can be found on their eponymous 2005 debut – which confirm they’re still becoming better as songwriters and performers, although one of their songs needed to be started over again. They’re definitely not the most original of bands – and I doubt they would claim otherwise – so the question whether they deliver a good set depends on their dedication and skills, and luckily they have at least two members that have enough charisma to ensure they’ll succeed. Vocalist Jeroen might look like a scrawny little guy, but his hard-rock bellow can be quite impressive, both soulful and ready to be used for a biker-metal anthem. Zakk, you better watch your ass. The other attraction is lead-guitarist Robby, whose presence has become more and more decisive since he joined the band. Both capable of laying down fat riffs and coming up with fast solo wankery, the guy has become an essential player for the band, one who makes burnin’ cuts like “What’s Going On?”, “Drunk Tortoise,” and “She Said” considerably heavier than their studio counterparts. As a bonus, they ended the show with a cover of Mountain’s “Mississippi Queen,” which has (as far as I know) never been bettered by any other band. Still, their version rocked and ended the set on a high note.

For some reason, I totally couldn’t get into Josiah’s set that night. It’s hard to explain why, as the sound was good, all three members managed to hit the right notes/skins/cymbals and didn’t deliver a lame-ass performance. Even though they’ve been around for only a handful of years, they’ve amassed quite a resume for a band that’s active in such an ignored genre – they’ve recorded and released two full-lengths (as well as a few briefer efforts), toured the European continent a few times, shared stages with bands as diverse as The Dirtbombs, The Supersuckers and Zen Guerilla, and played an enthusiastically received set at the Roadburn festival earlier this year - but I couldn’t feel the music this time. All three musicians can compete with almost anyone out there – they’ve got quite a few thunderous rhythms and grooves, while guitarist Mat Bethancourt concocts a muddy melting pot of Hendrix’s licks, Mark Farner’s thunder and Ed Mundell’s soloing. Their songs – many of which taken from sophomore album Into the Outside – hover between the expected late 60s/early 70s acid rock (Hendrix, Blue Cheer) and blues/hard-rock (Purple, Grand Funk, etc), but they top it off with a dash of garage psych amped up by ways of Detroit’s finest. That all sounds perfectly fine on paper and goes to show even Brits can have a fine taste in music, but all this worshipping at the altar of fuzzy rock from the analogue age occasionally left me with the “now what?” -question, as if the band has become so immersed in their groovy, soulful tributes they’ve erased themselves from the picture. But hey, it’s a purely subjective feeling and all around me, several people were havin’ a good time rockin’ out to the band’s music.

If you look up the meaning of “far out” in a dictionary, then Colour Haze should get at least a mention in that entry, because you don’t get much further out than these Germans. It’s not that they’re driven by the urge to annoy with violent bursts of noise, sudden twists and turns or grating aural terror – it’s actually situated at the other range of the spectre, where inner peace and the love of everything reign. Colour Haze’s songs (as well as their attitude) are basically unrestricted by the confines of time and space. They sing about clouds, skies, stars and in particular the sun; they sing about love, peace and harmony; about flowers, birds and bees. Actually, they don’t sing about the latter, but you get my drift. To indulge in cosmic preferences in a time like this, when most other bands would rather vent political schemes or annoy you with their wild stories, it takes either a lot of courage or an existence outside of the fringes, and it seems that the three Germans have chosen the latter option (on stage, anyway). When you see these guys perform, you expect them to start levitating at any given moment, so well-balanced is their act, so peaceful their concentration, so perfectly is their attitude adjusted to what they stand for. It’s the same thing with their music. Despite the fact that vocalist/guitarist/guru Stefan Koglek and his sidekicks have managed to absorb blues, jazz, folk, pop, hard rock and stoner, their roots are to be found in the late 60s/early 70s. However, whereas some bands try to lay down this retro-vibe because of the semi-revolutionary stance and hedonism of some of the bands from the era, Colour Haze opt for the quiet revolution, the trip inwards, the quest for harmony, and they do so by indulging in mind-expanding jams and referring to Herman Hesse and Lao Tzu instead of aggressive rhetoric and macho bravado. The band’s music is equally characterised by harmony, even when they’re taking off and building mountains of fuzz in the sky above you. In other words: here is one of the few bands that managed to create a musical universe that’s completely its own. Their grand songs often gradually move to that one unavoidable climax, but they’re as often as much about the trip as the destination. It’s self-absorbed, psychedelic music taken to its logical extreme, an almost free-floating, aural philosophy that’s indebted to the past, but essentially timeless (almost a voluntary solitude, really). Therefore, the addition of the psych visuals completed the picture and confirmed this band’s position as a current-day Grateful Dead, a unit that’s capable of stretching an already monstrously long album track (the 22 minutes of their recent album’s “Peace, Brother and Sisters”) to lengths most other bands don’t even cover with entire albums. Personally, I have to be in the mood for this kind of trip. You cannot but be amazed by the hypnotic interplay of these three musicians, but whether you’re willing to go along with them entirely depends on whether the perfectly green, welcoming pastures of heaven - where the music is soothing, the people are lovely and the food is healthy - are what you’re looking for at that very moment. Or maybe it’s just the excellent weed.

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