After the end of an extensive European label tour, Warp Records set its sights a little lower by planning a handful of dates in the United States. Using my status as an elite contributor to a self-indulgent online music rag, I managed to get myself guest listed for the opening night festivities at New York City's Club Shelter. There were three accessible floors, two of which were used by the acts performing, with the third for socializing and perusing the surprisingly limited selection of Warp merchandise. You would think with a NYC office they might sell more than just the new Autechre DVD, the Magic Bus Tour CD, and some label t-shirts. Warp DJs were warming up the downstairs audience when Dntel came on upstairs. Their vibe was rather melancholy to be opening a party at a dance club with, and the audience responded accordingly by treating their set like background music for the most part. Bizarre and often organic, the three performers did their best with the piss poor sound system upstairs (the downstairs wasn't plagued in the same fashion), despite the fact that the audience was noticeably audible during their quieter parts. Next up was Jamie Lidell, who proceeded to kick the night into full swing. Reminiscent of his soulful vocal house experiments with Christian Vogel in Super Collider, Lidell came out like some mad genius showcasing his Motown roots and voice. The music was delirious and addictive, even though the PA was so bass heavy my balloon knot quivered. Bucking the trends of his DSP goofball labelmates, he was accompanied for the majority of the show by a saxophone player, whose bleats pleasingly matched Lidell's bloops. Towards the end of his set, I decided to venture downstairs to give Chris Clark a listen. Though the sound was superior, and the crowd was gyrating and grinding in that awkwardly awful way that IDM geeks do best, Chris Clark's sound did not hold a candle to the abstract funk upstairs. I returned to catch the tail end of Lidell's improv-heavy jam session and worked my way towards the front to secure a good spot for Prefuse 73, one of the two acts I was most excited to see. The crowd around me noticeably changed and grew in numbers as Scott Herren approached the stage. Backpackers with El-P visors and Cannibal Ox t-shirts reveled in the dirty hip-hop cut ups that Prefuse 73 dropped consecutively and seamlessly, and I was more than impressed. Still, I knew I was there as a reviewer and it was only appropriate that I give Richard Devine a shot. I managed to get downstairs just in time for him to finish, which was rather fortunate since I had not wanted to miss the legend who followed him; Mark Bell of LFO fame. While it was only a DJ set and not a live PA, Bell dropped some incredibly slick electro cuts for the crowd. The clumsy movements mistaken for dancing went into full force as Bell whipped out enough underground madness to send Felix da Housecat and his pesky glitz running home to Mama.
By the time Luke Vibert took the decks, I knew the night had already peaked, so I made my way home and groaned over how few hours of sleep I would get before work. At least my life is better than yours.
