LADDIO BOLOCKOが2001年に解散して、翌年俺がフランスで暮らしていたときにTPPを結成したんだ。5日ほど練習して、フランスやイタリアをツアーした のさ。1stアルバムの『Gamelan Into the Mink Supernatural』に収録してあるそのときの楽曲は、敢えて危険を冒そうと自由度の高いギター・リフで作られているんだ。相当盛り上げた部分もあ るから、ところどころすごくワイルドだね。いろんなことがあってバンドは解散寸前だったけど、かろうじてツアーだけはやりとげたよ。１年くらい後にアメリ カに戻って、ニューヨークでおれたちはJeff Conawayとプレイし始めて、それからはずっと同じラインナップだよ。
－今作『Ⅱ』は前作『Gamelan Into The Mink Supernatural』と地続きでいながら、音は立体化し、さらにスケールアップした印象がありました。サウンドに関して、一貫したコンセプトはあったのですか？
Above photos by Ebru Yildiz. Video footage by Bryan Zimmerman. Photos below by Jess Stover.
featured in Paper Mag "5 Loudest New New York Bands" by Simon Toop
Like a phoenix, The Psychic Paramount rise from the ashes of one of New York's other loudest bands, forgotten '90s noise-rockers Laddio Bolocko, to unleash a greatly improved, more focused version of that band's deranged racket on audiences everywhere. Although TPP made a minor splash in the experimental rock scene with 2005's Gamelan Into The Mink Supernatural, this year's follow-up, II, is their real coming-out party. Built around an obscenely tight bass-drums-guitar power trio, II is thrilling, a diamond-sharp bulldozer of an instrumental rock album that effortlessly demonstrates just how much noise three people can make playing in a traditional format if they really put their minds to it. None of this would matter if they couldn't fully realize their dynamic space jams live, but, lucky for us, they totally bring it during their smoke-machine-and-light-show-assisted live show, one of the most punishing and relentless I've ever seen. Catch one of their rare hometown shows and relive the glory days of Hawkwind and Blue Cheer through the lens of '80s no-wave and early '00s math rock. And get your eardrums blown out. Stream excerpts of their two albums here.
Show review from July 26, 2011 at Union Pool in Brooklyn, NY from NYC taper Posted by acidjack - 15/08/11
New York crowds are notoriously, almost epically jaded. As much as bands love the exposure of America’s largest city and cultural capital, they also tend to be dispirited by the “show me” attitude of crowds that have seen it all before. Being from Brooklyn themselves, The Psychic Paramount must know this all too well - which is why they pulled out all the stops at Union Pool on a recent Tuesday night to deliver a jaw-dropping set that was one of the most incredible I have seen this year. Cloaked for the duration in thick billows of smoke, their set, culled primarily from their latest release, II, left the crowd in awe at the vortex of sound coming from this three-man band. I don’t know that I have been to another show this year that had as many audience members actually talking about the show when it was over - and stark silent during. These instrumental songs seethe with emotion; even staring into shadows in the smoke, you can’t help but be moved by them. It doesn’t hurt, of course, that they are rendered by players of obvious talent and technical skill - bassist Ben Armstrong and guitarist Drew St. Ivany first met in the now-defunct art-noise-jazz band Laddio Bolocko, a less rock n’ roll but no less compelling outfit, and drummer Jeff Conaway is (as in most three pieces) the glue that gives the band its propulsive, driving sound. Bands like TPP are the artists that live shows were made for - even this fine recording cannot capture their brilliance. Mark your calendars, folks - their next show is September 3 right here in Brooklyn...
The Psychic Paramount return to Union Pool for two nights - Oct. 8 + 9 with Trans Am. Leading up will be appearances in Baltimore at the Talking Head (10/6) and at the 9:30 Club in Washington DC (10/7).
Tuesday August 9th The Psychic Paramount live on Brian Turner's WFMU show 3pm-6pm 91.1 fm (NYC/NJ), 90.1fm (Catskills/Hudson Valley) or stream/listen live at wfmu.org
The Psychic Paramount Interview with Drew St. Ivany Yellow Green Red Sunday, May 15th, 2011 | Interviews | YGR
Blowing minds with one’s guitar/bass/drums rock band is nearly impossible in 2011, but if there’s any band doing it, it’s The Psychic Paramount. Formed out of the ashes of (the under-appreciated until after their demise) Laddio Bolocko, The Psychic Paramount take the simple concept of instrumental rock music and set the whole thing ablaze, using their superior musical ability not to dazzle or confuse but to translate the musical experience into a physical one. Their sound hits with force, charisma and vigor, as if the natural limitations of drums and amplified guitars don’t apply to this band, acting not as three separate players but a single indestructible unit. This is why their great new album, II, packs more emotion and provokes more thought than any other rock band I’ve recently headbanged to. I chatted with guitarist Drew St. Ivany about The Psychic Paramount, and while I wouldn’t have blamed him if he spoke only in the form of an obtuse metaphorical haiku (when your music sounds like this, you get full rights to be as pretentious as you want), he’s actually a pretty down-to-earth, awesome guy.
How did you guys know each other before starting The Psychic Paramount? I understand that some if not all of you played together in Laddio Bolocko… Both Ben (Armstrong, bassist) and I played in Laddio Bolocko, which formed in 1997 in New York. Laddio split up in 2001 and soon afterward I moved to France. In 2002, Ben and I decided to form a new band and booked a tour of France and Italy. Ben suggested getting Tatsuya Nakatani to play drums, basically at the last minute. Those guys flew out to practice for a few days and do the tour. That formation split up after two and a half weeks. Jeff Conaway, who was playing in Sabers, joined as drummer in 2004 when Ben and I started playing again in New York. Since then, it’s been the same line-up.
Do you feel like the band has progressed since Gamelan Into The Mink Supernatural? Gamelan summed up the essence of what we were doing at that time. Enough so, we thought, that it seemed redundant to go on pushing those extremes onto new ideas. I’m not sure how to assess where we’ve arrived in terms of progress. On a good day, I do feel like we’re a better band now than at any time in the past. I feel like II is definitely a logical continuation from Gamelan… the power and force is still there, but it also seems to stretch out a bit, in certain ways.
Has your song-writing process changed at all, or has it always been a certain way? Gamelan was composed entirely on the guitar, which is probably the way most rock songs start out. A lot of material on II originated from drum beats we would use as a rhythmic foundation to experiment upon and build ideas. Sometimes radically different variations of tracks emerged. For instance, “N5” and “N5 Coda” are two different compositional approaches to the same drum figure.
The song titles on the new album all seem to be based in practicality, versus any sort of artistic purpose. Was this an intentional move, or do you just not put a lot of weight into the name of a song? It just worked out that way. Song titles are usually expected but seemed irrelevant for this record. The abbreviations are convenient, but they also help to reinforce our decidedly non-verbal atmosphere.
Is the “non-verbal atmosphere” an intentional one, then? I can see how a band like The Psychic Paramount has no need for a singer or lyrics or evocative imagery… you guys seem to be about the music and only the music, in a way. An escape from words can be liberating. On a recording, we are dealing only with sound and leaving any implication or storytelling up to the imagination. It may be interesting to find out what kind of mental imagery our music evokes in the listener, if any. I’ve had people describe it to me as being very dark and menacing. I feel it full of light and uplifting. In that way, I don’t see the absence of lyrics in our case as reductive. It challenges us musically to come up with something interesting enough to compensate for the lack of vocals which, for most people, are an integral part of rock music.
Do you feel like today’s fast-moving culture has less of a place for a group like The Psychic Paramount than say, two or three decades ago? It seems like unless a band is releasing a consistent flow of new music, they are nearly forgotten about. Is this something you ever consider? Do you care? We care about that, but it’s further down the list of life concerns. Letting five or more years go by between records doesn’t help public awareness very much, but releasing two or three more Gamelans in the meantime is obviously not going to land us in the Billboard 100 either. Our audience is small and probably, like us, has high standards. We can relate to that. As such, we’d rather take more time to do it right than to release something we aren’t totally happy with.
How long will it be until you start writing new material? Do you specifically take breaks after a new record, or have you already started working on new ideas? We’re planning on going back into the studio this summer. We’d like to have something new come out this year, but with us who knows? We’ve learned not to predict when that might be until a project is completely done.
Is there room for instrumentation besides bass / drums / guitar in The Psychic Paramount? Jeff sometimes plays a contact mic running through effects and an amplifier. You can hear it on Gamelan, track four. It sounds like an android. Sometimes he plays this live. On the new record, Ben plays air organ on a couple tracks.
From listening to your records, it’s pretty evident that you are all incredibly talented players, but often the songs themselves aren’t necessarily difficult to follow. Do you purposefully dial yourselves down when it comes to songwriting, to not go off and try to be “crazier” or whatever? We want our music to be inviting. We’re not trying to throw people off the train. People sometimes describe us as math rock, but it feels more like alchemy than mathematics. You could say that compositionally it’s very basic, but there is a lot going on. Our songs are still very challenging for us to play well.
That’s one thing I really appreciate about your music, that on paper the notes and riffs are probably pretty easy for anyone to play, but I don’t think any other group of people could play them and sound like The Psychic Paramount. Thanks! That’s also true for most good bands. Classical music needs virtuosos, but rock prefers identity and confidence. You might only need two notes, but you definitely need a sound.
Confirm or deny: The Psychic Paramount have “stage clothes” that you wear at all/most of your performances. Absolutely, all my clothes look the same.
How do you describe your band to strangers? Is it rock music? I usually just say loud rock. It’s hard to gauge common reference points with strangers. A while back, this kid who looked at least 18 or 20 years old asked me what we sounded like. I described it as kind of like Jimi Hendrix doing guitar feedback for 40 minutes. He said, “Jimi Hendrix, am I supposed to know who that is?”
How does that make you feel? I can understand someone born in the ‘90s not having a deep knowledge of ‘60s rock, but does that sort of thing make you wonder if the youth is just less interested in rock music? I don’t know. The genre is so broad. Even though most of the current rock scene may not be very good, I’m sure there’s still a young audience there. The best stuff is underground, and that’s probably more true now than ever before.
The Psychic Paramount - Live at Death By Audio March 5, 2011 in Brooklyn, New York. Video footage by Bryan Zimmerman. Photos by Gisel Florez.
"The Dark Light" BY MARYAM MATH appearing in The Daily - March 16, 2011
The Psychic Paramount pushes the sound beyond songs
At some point in the late ’60s, a certain brand of loud guitar music began to form. Black Sabbath’s doomy plod was the rough base for this new sound, though it also drew from the work of obscure ’60s bands labeled “psychedelic” (mostly because nobody else knew what to call guitar music that buried the vocals and refused to play nice). Over the past 40 years, much of this music has been called “heavy metal,” even though this particular music has little investment in charging forward or telling stories, and metal often does. Eventually, “heavy music” became the going term for this sound; local promoter Adam Shore has created a concert series called Blackened that specializes in booking “heavy” acts. This appellation works slightly better than most genre names because it is so loose — and there is no single way to describe heavy bands. All are loud, some painfully so; most are centered around a traditional rock-band setup, though some aren’t; and all of them make some part of the experience unusually intense. New York’s the Psychic Paramount is as heavy as it gets. The guitar, bass and drums trio uses no singing, and stretches most of its songs past the five-minute mark. Last week at Death By Audio in Brooklyn, The Daily watched the band play to a small, passionate crowd (made up mostly of men in their late 30s with beards). The room filled with smoke, and the band was backlit with strong lights that made the members’ faces impossible to see. When the music was over, it felt like we’d all been driven around the block in a van full of bowling balls, blindfolded, and then placed back where we had started. (In a good way.) Not ones to play shows or record often, the band answered a few questions from The Daily.
You have been together a fairly long time but haven’t released many recordings. What’s the story?
Drew St. Ivany, guitarist: [Bassist] Ben Armstrong and I were in Laddio Bolocko until that band broke up in 2000. We formed the Psychic Paramount in November 2002 and did a tour in France and Italy with drummer Tatsuya Nakatani. The band lasted only two or three weeks. The decision was made to reignite the band in 2004, and we began rehearsing in New York. [Drummer] Jeff Conaway, who played in Sabers, was introduced to us by mutual friends. We went into the studio shortly after and recorded Gamelan Into the Mink Supernatural. We decided to start work on a new album in 2007. In 2008, we went into a studio and recorded basic tracks for the album, which were ditched. Another two or three years went by in a flash. Finally, we went in to another studio and rerecorded everything in 2009, and finished mixing it in 2010. During all that time, we toured sporadically in Europe and the United States. To say we spent an excessive amount of time experimenting and exploring new ideas in our studio is an understatement. There are heaps of abandoned material.
The combination of backlighting, smoke and music is fairly assaultive. How do you navigate the line between music and pure overload?
Drew: We tend to navigate recklessly, and sometimes exciting things happen. It’s not fail-safe. We want the show to be action-packed, sonically, but we’re not trying to be aggressive. People have different thresholds.
Jeff: It can be jarring. Our friend Aran Tharp was in charge of the lighting and smoke at Death by Audio. During certain shows, he is shooting film and has a hand-held spotlight.
Someone called out Big Black’s “Jordan, Minnesota” at the beginning of the show. That song is over 20 years old — what does a reference like that mean to you guys?
Jeff: I thought they were saying “Jojo Monshtafo.”
Drew: I guess the atmosphere reminded them of Big Black. We should have brought firecrackers.
Are there other bands you feel a kinship with now?
Drew: Aluk Todolo.
Jeff: I always had a great time at Coptic Light shows, but they are defunct now. I thought we fit well together.
Music like the Psychic Paramount’s is probably not hugely commercial. In light of that, what do you see as the mission of the band?
Drew: There is no good way to justify an addiction.
Jeff: I always think of it as making what you would want to hear yourself. Not only are we heavy, but there is no singing. I love the challenge of making instrumental music, and so many times singers and/or lyrics are the downfall of otherwise good music.
The New York Times “Rhythmic Riffs of Explosive, Manic Instrumental Energy” By BEN RATLIFF
The Psychic Paramount doesn’t use words. It’s a rock trio without a singer, just guitar-bass-drums, and it lives entirely in the brawny lead-up, the big gestures of riff, rhythm and echo that generally point toward the real composed beginning of a song, the part that we end up whistling.
But there is no such song forthcoming. So the group’s show at Death by Audio, in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, late Saturday sounded like the instrumental way stations within a bloodthirsty performance by a band with songs (like, say, the Who’s in “Live at Leeds”) stretched across more than an hour. Or like free jazz with rock syncopation and dynamics. There’s some pacing, some narrative, lots of purpose, but the basic idea is to be always exploding in your face.
It makes lots of sense. The idea is right, the scale is right, the time is right. (Repetition is mother’s milk to all of us, and who needs another rock band with lyrics?) Sure, this music can grow tiresome. It was also very loud on Saturday. But the tired feeling you might have gotten was not solo fatigue. The guitarist Drew St. Ivany, the center of the band, didn’t play traditional solos in any sense. With Jeff Conaway’s syncopated drum groove and a blown-out repeated bass line (by Ben Armstrong) that contains an octave jump, suddenly this felt like progressive rock from 30 years ago except that the songs didn’t become fancy with chord changes. Instead, Mr. St. Ivany just repeated an extended-harmony chord for minutes at a time. He strummed fast, his guitar running through a couple of digital filters to make the sound ringing and rubbery. Or he took his hands off the fretboard and manipulated loops and feedback, making whining and roaring and percussive sounds — amazing sounds really.
Saturday’s show wasn’t improvisational, either. It drew directly from the shape of the pieces on the band’s new record, “II,” and the previous one, from 2005, “Gamelan Into the Mink Supernatural,” rather than expand and contract and move forward in free improvisation, as the band did back at the beginning, nine years ago.
In all that time the Psychic Paramount has moved pretty slowly up the ladder of local sound systems, and Death by Audio’s didn’t quite cut it; the show could not replicate anything like the pressurized feeling of “II.” You should see the group at a festival that will put the band in the right place with the right sound. Or you should hear “II.” Or you should just experience someone raving about what the Psychic Paramount amounts to at its idealized best: a manic ongoing present.
A version of this review appeared in print on March 7, 2011, on page C5 of the New York edition. http://www.nytimes.com/2011/03/07/arts/music/07dba.html
