My Bloody Valentine

So I managed to catch a show by a band by the name of My Bloody Valentine last night. You may not have heard of them — they’re still pretty new, and only have a couple Hype Machine entries — but I highly recommend checking them out when they come to your town. You heard it first at eMusic: this Kevin Shields fellow is going places!

Kidding. First things first: they sound EXACTLY like you want them to. Seriously: whatever fantasies you may have entertained while Loveless pulsated in your speakers about what it would be like to be smothered, flattened, enveloped by this music’s blissful waves live were more or less realized at last night’s show. No joke. (I’m assuming here, of course, that you weren’t a My Bloody Valentine O.G. who caught them “the first time around,” at which time I was 12.) From the very first notes of “I Only Said,” that big dreamy tower of sound that so many noise enthusiasts have worshiped devoutly in front of was more or less erected in front of our eyes/ears, and the effect was pretty staggering — two people I was standing near at different points in the show keeled over, only to be helped up by their friends, both of them wearing calm, faraway smiles during the whole ordeal (to be fair, I think most of that was drugs).

The set leaned pretty heavily on Loveless, which was okay by me — I adore Isn’t Anything and Ecstasy and Wine, but there is still something so beguiling and elusive about the sound world of Loveless — and it’s essential mystery has only deepened for me now that I’ve seen it reproduced live. Seriously, I was there, watching them play, and they were clearly humanoids playing instruments. But the cognitive dissonance between how little they seemed to be doing and the completely crushing wave of sound they produced was just too jarring.

Speaking of which: you’ve probably heard about how LOUD they were. Before the show, it seemed like that was the only thing anyone could talk about, with a mixture of nervousness and excitement. “It’s going to be so LOUD. Have you heard about how LOUD it is? Bring earplugs!! Did you bring earplugs? I hear they pass out earplugs at the door! Can I borrow your earplugs?” Reports from other shows had reached almost everyone; they’re so loud that they surpass the decibel level of a jet engine taking off. They’re so loud that people’s beer bottles began exploding. They’re so loud that all pregnant women in a five-mile radius spontaneously went into labor. Everyone’s ear drums burst at exactly the same moment during “Feed Me With Your Kiss.”

Well, thankfully none of the above scenarios were true (except the part about the earplugs — 1) they were necessary and 2) they were, in fact, being handed out at the door). But there is something indescribably physical about the sound — “loud” feels a little too pat, to be honest. At the end of the show, “You Made Me Realise” devolved/ascended into a sheer wave of pure, terrifying sound, the double-kick drums producing a gut-churning rumble while Kevin and Blinda Butcher worked up a squall that really did feel like you were standing underneath a jet taking off. I looked over at my friend Ben at one point, and he was leaning his head back and screaming (in exultation, I hasten to add) — the sound was completely lost. (I thought he was yawning.) They kept the blitzkrieg going for more than ten minutes, but it didn’t feel like an alienating gesture or an assault; instead it felt like a purifying dip in source waters, an acknowledgement of the forces that drive MBV’s music and make it so powerful. I left happily dazed.