Photo by Blaine Schultz
Dire Wolves at Milwaukee Psych Fest 2019
Dire Wolves at Milwaukee Psych Fest 2019
“Welcome back,” says Jeffrey Alexander to the elbow-to-elbow audience as his band Dire Wolves successfully negotiate the landing of a 20-minute interpretation of a Pharaoh Sanders tune.
Saturday’s day two of Milwaukee Psych Fest VII presented 16 acts split between the mini-Fillmore ballroom inside the Cooperage and a heated tent outside. Both spots were enveloped in an ever-changing light show that was not for the faint of heart.
An earlier set at Acme Records for a Record Store Day event found Dire Wolves’ music compressed and ready to explode with fans and record hounds shoehorned in the funky space. For the tent gig the band had added djembe and keyboard players to become a seven-member lineup. Offering one of the more interesting sound checks in memory, it was clear the sound mixer had his work cut out but within a few minutes of the band’s first tune, a variation on Pharoah Sanders’ “Elevation,” they had achieved liftoff.
Comprised of seven of the most unassuming characters you might find, the Wolves were gathered onstage to engage in a musical glossilalia, leading the audience into frenzied territory. With Brian Lucas’ bass anchoring saxophone, violin, Acetone organ, chimes, and Taralie Peterson’s wordless vocals the band hovered and raged, riding it all out like a wave.
While Garcia Peoples name is a dead giveaway, their buoyant hooks and radiant jams maintained a good vibe. Sunburned Hand of the Man dealt in a liquid vortex of delays, effects. The bass-driven sound was topped by animalistic saxophone lines.
The Triptides' vintage Vox Continental organ and Vox Phantom 12 string guitar placed them squarely in an era gone by. Yet their rowdy Beat/Garage sound made them a perfect band for the room, complete with a Kevin Ayers-ringer frontman.
In contrast The Telescopes presented a heavy set, pushing the trip with heavy floor toms. Ending their set with a long ritualist sacrifice of guitars and bass run into a music store’s worth of pedals and moaning vocals. It can be a fine line between indulgence and testing the audience’s patience. A bored frontman tapping randomly on a keyboard and grating his mic across the guitar player’s strings, The Telescopes set felt like Public Image Ltd. without the sense of humor.
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The Night Beats were the perfect prize in the crackerjacks for anyone hardy enough to stick around. Evoking the 13th Floor Elevators and high energy Detroit music the band offered up a set of punchy and energetic tunes in concise three-minute blasts. They even considerately slowed down things with a Spaghetti Western bolero that oozed sincerity.
