April 18–25, 1996

earshot

Dive-In!

Philly's Bardo Pond rides a tidal wave of noise on the path to enlightenment.

By Neil Gladstone

Bardo Pond's rehearsal space, a dilapidated Kensington warehouse, could double as a found-art gallery.

A plastic bunny sits atop one of the stereo speakers and stares through 3-D glasses. A couple of seven-inch singles, wrapped in metal chains, are nailed to the wall. Then there's the three foot hull of a headless stuffed animal which rotates over the center of the room like a piata.

It's no surprise that three of the band members, who also live here — Michael and John Gibbons and Clint Takeda — are art school graduates. The three guitarists install gallery pieces at the Institute of Contemporary Art for a living.

"We approach our music similar to the way you'd go about painting," explains guitarist Michael Gibbons, who attended the Art Institute of Chicago and favors late 20th-century abstract. "We're as interested in the process and the layering of the materials as we are in what the picture that painting is trying to create. In the same respect, our music is as much about sound as it is about songs."

In a time when catchy hooks are key to making a name for yourself in "alternative" music, Bardo Pond's tunes are more likely to induce a trance than inspire a mosh pit. Their distinctive brand of psychedelia combines elements of New York no wave, German prog rock and old school acid jamming for a final effect that appeals equally to fans of hardcore punk and tripped-out space music.

Although zines such as Alternative Press, CMJ and Puncture have bestowed high praise on the local combo, the just-released record, Amanita, on Matador, should win them national recognition in the avant rock scene. The double album (74 minutes on CD, 84 on vinyl) is an impressive body of free association that will no doubt be exalted by some critics and slagged off by others. But it will be noticed. The Matador umbrella includes such critically-acclaimed artists as Pavement, Guided By Voices and Liz Phair, to name a few. Many look to the label for the next big thing.

"I couldn't sleep for three days after they said they wanted to sign us," says Mike Gibbons. Matador rep Gerald Cosloy had been helping the band get shows in New York for almost a year before giving them the nod. What's even more surprising is that none of these art-rockers planned on being in a band until fairly recently. Although Sollenberg first picked up the flute in elementary school, the rest have been playing for only a few years.

The genesis of the combo began as jam sessions between Takeda and the Gibbons brothers.

"We should really thank Yuengling," jokes Mike, referring to how much porter was regularly consumed at the early practice sessions. A classmate of John's from the Academy of Fine Arts, Bob Scentz, joined in the improv troupe. The accomplished guitarist stuck around just long enough to teach the Gibbons brothers how to play bar chords and tune their guitars.

Following Scentz's lead, they tuned their guitars a half step lower than usual, to e-flat. Mike Gibbons began taping every jam. Later, he and John would listen back and try to repeat the part they'd played. Unconventional chords were invented to produce out-of-the-ordinary rock. At times, it's hard for these musicians to remember how they conceive each jam. For that reason, as well as an ardent love for improvisation, songs are always evolving.

Compulsiv record's main man Bryan Dilworth met John Gibbons three years ago through a mutual friend. He liked Bardo Pond's demo enough to have a friend record them.

"They approach noise rock differently than most," says Dilworth, who also pressed the band's first single, "Die Easy" b/w "Apple Eye." A lot of the avant garde bands drive people out of the room, he adds, while Bardo Pond's mellow approach is much easier for the newcomer to weather.

"In the end I think they usually win over the crowd," says Dilworth, who books bands at Upstairs at Nick's, Silk City and the Electric Factory.

Compulsiv later pressed another single by band, "Dragonfly" b/w "Blues Tune" as well as an EP, Big Laughing Jym. Although the small local label sold a thousand of each single, Bardo Pond's vinyl moves more quickly outside of Philly.

"There's more of a history of support for avant garde music in other cities like New York and Chicago," he explains. His label gets request letters for Bardo Pond's music from "Jersey to Japan."

Drunken Fish, a California label that specializes in noise rock, released Bardo's first album, Bufo Alvarius. Takeda was living in Seattle during recording and only appears on it marginally. For most of the LP, one of the Gibbons brothers played quasi-bass parts on guitar. On Amanita, Takeda's bass locks and grooves with Joe Culver on drums, leaving the guitarists free to improvise more textured layers.

"Whenever I'm out of town and I tell people I'm from Philadelphia, they all talk about Bardo Pond and the Strapping Fieldhands," says Dilworth. "They think Philly is this avant garde mecca."

"Wait a second, I want to record something quickly," warns Mike Gibbons to the four other members of Bardo Pond noodling on their instruments in the practice room.

The guitarist leans over a small table covered in recording equipment, checks a couple of buttons and places a metal slide tube on his ring finger. A few notes of country blues are plucked out of his six string and formed into a riff. He stomps on a distortion pedal and the backwoods twang fuzzes and booms off of the 20-foot high ceiling. Looking up the chipped brick walls of the room, it's easy to figure that the rumble of this noise band probably rattles divits out of the building regularly.

John Gibbons, Mike's brother, starts to strum his guitar hypnotically as if playing an Indian raga on a mandolin. Bassist Takeda sifts through the swirling texture and pins a melodic pulse to its underbelly, repeating one note like a sputtering Morse code. Culver hunches over his drum set, staring at the snare, almost waiting for it to tell him what to play. A jazzy beat rises from the skins and the storm is very close to being full-power.

Isobel Sollenberg stands next to a microphone, slightly outside the circle formed by the rest of Bardo Pond. She stares into the center of the practice space for a few minutes before releasing a long note from her flute. The tone comes through like a distant, high-pitched foghorn. A few moments later, she closes her eyes and hums a demure, indecipherable phrase into the mike.

Walking in between the musicians and the amplifiers and feeling the sonic mesh bouncing from all directions is like being under a pair of giant headphones. Your heartbeat slows and your eyes relax. The emotion of the music swells, rises and falls. Five minutes go by, and then 10. With little verbal communication necessary, Bardo Pond has written the blueprint for a new song.

Later on in the evening, Mike is creating video feedback on the television in the living room that he may use for a Bardo Pond video. By pointing a handycam at the screen, the image fractures and curls in on itself. Mike likens the black and white geometric shapes on the screen to 1960s Op paintings. At first the graphic looks like the cross section of a brain and then like the ragged planet surface of an undiscovered moon.

Like creating Bardo Pond music, the process appears simple. But the various hypnotic creations are taped and considered. The final result is made by combining the best of the improv into a stronger whole.

Considering the transcendental flow of their music and video images, it's makes you wonder what kind of drugs these folks are on.

"We don't really want to endorse anything," responds Mike when questioned. Yuengling beer and pot are always around, but this band named two albums and an EP after hallucinogens. Their first LP, Bufo Alvarius (on Drunken Fish), is named after an odd drug found in the back secretions of a toad. Amanita, short for Amanita Muscare, is a mushroom that ancient Sumerians built their religion around. Big Laughing Jym is a nickname for a different mind-altering fungus. Even though the band dodges questions about drug usage, it's hard to miss a copy of the book Licit and Illicit Drugs lying on the floor outside the bathroom.

"If we do any of those things, it would only be for purposes of science," jokes Mike.

But, if they are searching for a higher consciousness, narcotics aren't their only path. The name Bardo Pond is a play on a term Takeda came across while reading the Tibetan Book of the Dead.

"Bardo means 'in between life and death,' or a place where you prepare for reincarnation," he explains. "I figured, while in limbo we could hang out at the pond and fish for ideas in it."

There certainly wasn't a lot of time for the band to trip in the studio. Amanita was recorded at Studio Red in seven days. Two days for laying down the basic tracks, two days for overdubs (mostly guitar), and another two for mixing.

"It was the easiest session I ever did," remarks co-producer and Studio Red engineer Jason Cox. Instead of struggling for the perfect take, the band often let the tape roll and improvised.

"One time they told me they were going to record for 10 minutes and keep the best six," says Cox. Some of the songs on the album begin in the middle of a jam. The engineer's greatest concern in recording was being able to hear all of the quieter parts being played underneath the raucous drums and wailing guitar. In the end, the finished playback breaks several "accepted" rules of recording — guitars clip and certain instruments jump out.

"It's fucking punk rock," laughs Cox, "sure, there's some noise, but that's what it's all about."

Over the past year, the band's presence has been requested by several national acts, says Dilworth. The Grifters, Bailter Space and Sonic Youth all wanted to share a bill with this Philly five-piece.

"They're completely oblivious to everything that's happening to them," he says. "They're not scenesters or tainted by the indie music scene. They just want to play their instruments — and that's cool."