DARK MEAT

This openness to experimentation and the more-the-merrier musical outlook, however, is where the Elephant 6 connection ends; Dark Meat is much more Iggy Stooge and Archie Shepp than Brian Wilson or Sgt. Pepper. They've become nationally infamous for their unpredictable performances where any division between band and audience is willfully and joyously annihilated in a mushroom cloud of silly-string, slung booze and amp-static. Rarely, indeed, are they at all confined by stage-barrier or club-wall: they've been known to take to the streets and instigate an all-inclusive parade wherein the Albert Ayler or Pharaoh Sanders tunes blare above the scruffy martial rhythms until the band blasts again into one of its incendiary full-band stompers: suddenly, then, they're savage cavemen in MC5-drag who've somehow hijacked a New Orleans Feneral and dosed it fully with the bad brown acid. Sets can last anywhere from 45 minutes to two and half-hours, depending, and can veer anywhere from extended free-jazz freakscene to Stooge-esque demolition to O-minded monochord tribal-psych drone-out.

This spring finds the band touring to support the deluxe VICE records reissue of its debut album Universal Indians; the record sees reissue as a beautiful full-color gatefold double LP, has been powerfully remastered, and contains three killer bonus tracks: an inspired and mostly-improvised version of the Albert Ayler-penned title tune, and two crazed takes of album tracks recorded outside at dusk smack in the middle of California's Joshua Tree desert. Soon, they'll be embarking on a massive months-long tour of the United States, so keep an eye peeled for their Bright Green 35-ft GMC Monster rolling into your town and expect dutifully to have your scalp removed by their ample stores of volume, attitude and energy.