Concert review: Kim Gordon at The Orange Peel
Of all the bands that defined the ’80s underground scene, Sonic Youth always seemed the most preternaturally cool. Emerging from the no wave and post-punk movements, their aural assault became a template for the bands that would follow in their wake, most notably Nirvana.
The chaotic eruptions at the heart of records like Daydream Nation and EVOL were always grounded by one force: Kim Gordon. Never afraid to get down and dirty, her impossibly cool demeanor — stone-faced with bass guitar in hand — made her a poster child for generations of women in rock.
Following a surprisingly fascinating opening set from experimental harpist (and Asheville native) Mary Lattimore, Gordon brought that same spirit to her March 23 gig at The Orange Peel, part of a tour in support of her solo record, No Home Record. Strutting onto stage in a white blouse and black skirt, Gordon appeared like she had just escaped from a late-night business meeting. The screams from the crowd were deafening as she entered the stage — it was clear an icon had arrived.
Flanked by guitarist Sarah Register and bassist Camilla Charlesworth, the trio powered through a barrage of noise rock euphoria. Minus drummer Madi Vogt, who was out sick for the night and thus left the spot totally vacant, the extended freakout of squalling feedback and Gordon’s gut-wrenching wails made for an even more avant-garde experience than expected.
Throughout the night, Gordon cooley strummed out dissonant chords and harmonics that provided the perfect counterpoint to Register’s loving perversion of her own instrument. (Yes, even the fan favorite screwdriver was brought in by Register to deliver some atonal fun.)
As the extended jam that opened the night reached its climax, with videos of Los Angeles projected on a screen at the back of the stage, Gordon climbed atop her amp to deliver the final blows. The imagery alone was enough to rally the crowd to the front of the room and the culmination of these sights and sounds produced a hypnotic sensation — a feeling that wherever Gordon and her band went, we would blindly follow.
As the feedback died down, Charlesworth’s bass carried the band into “Grass Jeans,” the relatively mellower number providing a comedown from the previous 15 or so minutes. It was at this point that my mind started to wonder as to where the show would go if no drummer was present. After another altercation between Gordon and her amp, replete with displays of athleticism and solid guitar abuse (including a somewhat surprising kick to its back), the number came to an end and Gordon left the stage.
“Is it over?” became the prevailing thought with only 30 or so minutes of performance having transpired. Register and Charlesworth followed Gordon, but soon came back to humor the audience. Register instructed the crowd with a smile, playfully commanding, “I’m going to need you guys to act as the drummer,” though acknowledging that the final tempo would come from the bass after some breakneck stomps and claps from the attendees.
When Gordon did emerge from backstage, she proceeded to ask, “Is the comedy club across the street any good?” and converged with her bandmates on what exactly would unfold next. It was at this point that Gordon showed her roots as a true punk artist: No drama, no diva attitude. Just a DIY approach that makes me remember why I love this genre to begin with.
After some deliberation, the band kicked into a version of “Hungry Baby” that found Gordon moving towards and nearly into the audience. Her demeanor recalled the likes of Patti Smith, reaching her hand out to create a concrete bond between artist and fan as she sang and screamed her heart out.
The group I was standing next to who received this intimate privilege had to have been in late high school, no later than freshmen or sophomores in college, and from the onset of the show, they treated Gordon as a hero. They hollered after every act of defiance, after every wallop of ear-piercing feedback, and lunged when she threw a bouquet of flowers at the onset of the performance. So when the elation of reaching out and touching their idol hand-to-hand became a reality, and the band exited and the house lights came up, a feeling of elation washed over us all. Kim Gordon, with all the power at her disposal, had transformed a truncated show into an intimate experience. It was as if all in attendance had received something special from a legend.
(Photo by Niko Gonzalez)
