August 14th was another joyous evening in New Brunswick, New Jersey, which is quickly establishing itself as a hot spot for any touring noise acts to stop through on the east coast. Considering the enthusiastic attendees and diverse local talent pool available for these shows though, this comes off as no surprise. As a result, acts of both the new and old guard are able to use this intimate basement setting as a proving ground to show their stuff to a rather open-minded but critically thinking crowd. So when Midwest noisecore legends Penis Geyser announced they would be touring in celebration of their twentieth anniversary, booking them a show in Hub City was a no-brainer.
First act of the night was FRICKER, who I would put into contention as modern noise’s best kept secret anywhere. The unique blend of digital soundscape smashing and crude feedback that he brings to the table can be tailored to just about any sound system that he comes across, which leads to each live experience being different from the last. Given the grimy nature of Ferren Mall’s sound system, I figured the crowd would be in for something on the crustier side of his material. Indeed, I was right on that front. Fricker spared no room for intricacies, and immediately summoned churning rumble grumble to suck the audience into a vacuum of unforgiving sound. The feedback drone that started the set eventually gave way to more variety in the chopping of digital samples, but never once lost its harsh backing. It seems like there is not a single sound system that this red-headed prince can’t conquer, and the audience seemed to think so, as much feedback I heard after was that this set made the travel and admission price alone feel worth it. With a bar set that high, things could only go up from there.
When it comes to performances I take part in, I try to often gauge how the audience is feeling about things both during and after the set. With EVIL BONG, this task is never really that hard. Being showered in a sea of audience laughter and “fuck you” cries gives you a good idea of where your performance stands. With 6 members to this unit, every full band blast came closer to sounding like harsh noise wall than perhaps a noisecore band would sound. 
Between takes, microphone feedback would shriek like a drunken sailor beginning to hurl as song titles that took shots at New Brunswick, the audience, the bands playing and more came out of the mouth of their jackass drummer (side note: that guy really is a jerk). By the end of the set, with the audience in a frenzy, several members of the band just began to throw themselves directly at the audience. Hey, if hurting them emotionally won’t break their spirits, why not try physically?? By the time the band finished their crowd-pleasing closer, “Fuck Scronch,” there was simply nothing more they could do than to cheer and submit to the power of Evil Bong. Much like the film series this band was named after, audiences can’t help but find entertainment in the horror of this performance.
To simply shower praise towards PENIS GEYSER would not be enough to describe the masterclass their performance was. While most seasoned attendees of noise shows expect short sets, nobody was expecting just 90 seconds from this touring unit. It’s 20 years of the band, you would be more than understanding if they wanted to play a long set. Nope; 90 seconds and it’s off the stage. But in that time, the band managed to whip the audience between blasting frenzy, tense restraint and dadaist rock n roll deconstruction that would have left the most seasoned of touring acts in absolute disbelief by how disciplined the trio were in their attack. While the blasting noisecore is what most of us came for, I found myself more intrigued by the moments in between, when drummer Mikeal VanCleave would gently tap on his kit while the string slinging duo of Brad Griggs and Charlie Mumma would treat their guitars as anything other than traditional songwriting. Strings were detuned, slapped around, beaten and mangled. The frenetic energy of these actions sounded closer to someone rattling their cabinet around than actually attempting to play anything musical. And when it all finally came to an end, it wasn’t bombastic. The band simply stopped playing whatever interlude they were in the midst of and started breaking their gear down. The audience cheered for an encore. I heard “One more! One more!” cried out repeatedly (what would even be “one more” for this band? Certainly not a song). Finally, one attendee walking out said “nah, it was perfect” and left. I couldn’t have said it better myself; a phenomenal band that could go on for another 20 years and probably still be as good.
The new blood of New Jersey closed the evening’s happenings, as SPLOOGE RECEPTACLE came out with a table full of gear and the enthusiasm to inject their own brand of reckless abandon onto the audience. For those maybe not in the know, this group serves as the house band for New Jersey–based record label, NJMA, which has taken on the mantle of all things absurd and limited-edition in the Garden State. There are too many projects and releases to even begin listing the “essentials,” but Splooge Receptacle is where all these insane minds come together to celebrate the power of all things noise and core. Members were switching between duties on the mic, guitar, drums, electronics, etc. Really, if someone felt like they wanted to play something more than another member at the moment, they made the switch off occur. Similar to the Evil Bong performance from earlier, Splooge also engaged in their own form of audience antagonizing, as members crashed into the crowd while raging out through the wall of sound. Even when sound was not always perfect (sorry for providing a bad cable, team), their reckless abandon carried the set a great deal. With each passing set this group does, I become more and more excited at the prospect of where their sound can go. This group will be a name to look out for in the coming years if your listening diet tends to lean towards the more lo-fi ends of noisecore and shitnoise.
So with the final blastbeat sounding off, the crowd took the streets, wandering off to who-the-hell-knows until the next show. Maybe some went to the nearest eatery available. Personally speaking, I went off to the Edison Diner for some late-night nachos with the Penis Geyser crew in tow. But maybe some walked away from this one thinking of how inspiring it could be to see the most chaotic and shittiest sounds performed so excellently. I know plenty that are still buzzing days later from the whole affair.
Noise Not Music 