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eye WEEKLY                                             October 27 1994
Toronto's arts newspaper                      .....free every Thursday
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INDIE EYE                                                    INDIE EYE

                      DECONSTRUCTING NEW BUILDINGS
                   Coltrane Wreck survey their damage

                                  by
                            CHRIS O'CONNOR


Yeah, I know what it looks like -- `Coltrane Wreck,' promising
crypto-cosmic bohojazz flattened by speeding Japanese bullet-train
technology. And yeah, tho' the actual emission's a lot closer to Six
Finger Satellite on a suicide run through the Selected Ambient Works of
King Crimson (violins included), I know what you're thinking --
"elitists," "eggheads," "technicians," that subspecies of muso who not
only dedicates its career to the discovery of the note "H" but also
plans to drop it into a six-part opera based on the phenomenology of
Ludwig Wittgenstein. But really, how much snobbery can you exude coming
from Cleveland?

"Exactly," nods Kristine Keffer, violinist. "You don't wanna go out and
be ... what's that band ... Einstrentah Noobatten? Sure, Pere Ubu were
from Cleveland, but they had to go out of town before anyone knew who
they were; you ask your average music listener in Cleveland --
mainstream or alternative -- who Pere Ubu are, and they won't know.
We've got some definite traditional songwriting structures, though. Tom
[Jares, frontman] says we'll never write a three-chord song, but if we
did, it'd be three of the weirdest chords you've ever heard."

The 'trane, see, are not cruising the lo-fi track to oblivion: they
care about those weird chords, and -- unlike nine out of 10 Steve
Albini productions -- they want them heard, and clearly. They want you,
Mr. Counting Crows, and you, Ms Collective Soul, to listen, to enjoy,
to shake a bit of Accounting Department tailfeather to them 9/8
industrojazz throwdowns. Christ, this is Cleveland, not Chapel Hill ...

"They want you to think they really don't care," Tom fumes. "They go
in, turn on a tape machine in someone's bathroom and let it roll. Live,
we go to great pains trying to recreate what we did in the studio. The
studio's a wonderful place, where the whole idea of music is to have no
fear: don't be afraid of what you can do, cos you can do anything you
want. We can do anything we want, and we want to challenge people and
have them go, `Wow! This is really neat!' and to do that without being
condescending or cocky. Purposefully, we work very hard not to alienate
anyone who'd listen to us -- we're very aware we can't go, `Wow, what a
cool diminished fifth progression that is! Let's leave it like that!'
We've got to do something more with it than that."

And it isn't yanking it out to quarter-hour dirge triptychs (yeah, that
means you, friend-o, doping around the desert with your portable
generators and D&D manuals) ...

"We do work in a structure, but really we're into deconstruction,"
explains Tom. "We're all schooled, spent years training, assimilating
and learning -- learning and learning and learning 'til you reach a
point where you realize you're not doing anything with it, just
regurgitating the same old shit. First band I was ever in 15 years ago,
we knew nothing about the rules of songwriting -- we just did quirky,
fucked-up music -- and I realize I've got to start thinking like that
again."

What, the old free-jazz, honk now/think later ploy?

"No, we wanna know what we're doing; we just don't want it to be a
happy accident. We want to have that understanding of what we're doing
-- and share it - - cos it's so much easier to deal with things when
you understand why."

So Coltrane Wreck is, what? Zen punk? You write, jam, drive, gig, tour
the question and, when the answer finally hits you, that's it, over?

Tom Jares grins: "Yeah. It's like climbing a mountain -- it's not so
much the climbing as sitting at the top, thinking about why you did it
in the first place."

Coltrane Wreck play the Rivoli Oct. 29.


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QUICK FIXES                                                QUICK FIXES

                        OFF THE BOURGEOIS PIGS!


Or, "Religion may be the opiate of the masses, but massive opiates are
definitely my religion." Shooting down the mainline this week are ...

** BLUE DOG PICT: Neo-Foucauldian deconstructivists announce two nights
of post-structuralist theory and wanton over-intellectualization!
Yarrooo! Nov. 4 and 5 at the Ultrasound, Blue Dog Pict prepare to rock
your world-construct with two themed showcases: first, the admirable
sentiments of "The Systematic Slaughter Of The Middle Class," followed
the next night by the bitchin'ly titled "Dis-Integration Of The
Industrious Motive From The Human Psyche." A hellish rockin' monster
truck party, we're sure you'll agree -- and only $8 for a two-night
pass ($6 for one show)!

"We're totally remaking the club," explains Keram Malicki-Sanchez.
"We've got two nights in which to totally fuck it over -- we're having
bleeding goats, a bunch of lights, everything. We'll be playing 90 per
cent new material, and this'll mark our new direction -- I can't really
explain what it is, but it has nothing to do with pop. We probably
won't go back to our old material after this."

And sure enough, Blue Dog Pict head into the studio in two weeks to
record their first CD in over a year. Currently untitled, it features
songs with names like "Robot Pride Day" and "08.ZIYA," should be out in
February on their Constant Change label, and ...

Waitaminnit ... bleeding goats?!

** MESSIAH INC.: Eldritch doom mongers Messiah Inc. wish to announce
the addition of new bassist Troy Craig, ex-Mother's Fear, and their
continuing work on a debut CD. Fine by me, gents ... now stop postering
over our GhettoVision flyers before we send you into the Great Beyond,
dig?


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