Sonic Youth (Daydream Nation)
Enmore Theatre
February 18, 2008
Twenty years after its creation, it can be a little too easy to take Daydream Nation for granted. Growing up with Pixies, Nirvana, Dinosaur Jr, Pavement et al as the rough-edged yet melodic backdrop, swapping endless mixed tapes overflowing with off-kilter indie licks and crunchy guitary goodness, it's difficult to imagine a time when all of this wasn't quite so.
But a wee back-pedal to 1988 and all this was yet to be. The mood, madness and the method was lurking, of course, spilling out of north-eastern colleges and bursting from Washington winters, but there was still little sense of a collective thrust, a yellow ribbon to tie around the ol' indie tree.
There's always the chance hindsight sweeps away too much in its quest for seamless tidiness, but one suspects Daydream Nation could well have been the penny-dropping moment - the point at which disparate and seemingly incompatible movements were drawn into an understandable and exciting singularity, a common cause still unsure exactly what it was that it was railing against, but finally able to feel a part of something, and not just apart from everything.
If all this has been easy to forget in the time since, it was impossible to ignore tonight. What it lacked in surprise or shock value - familiarity breeding not so much contempt as awestruck-respect - it made up for in its encapsulation of everything that has made Sonic Youth such a crucial part of the last quarter of a century music.
Their sixth studio album, this was the moment at which the times synched with their timeless appeal. The planets aligned to bring an eclipsing beauty to their electric chaos. Their performance tonight, in keeping with the album from which it was drawn, walked a tightrope that was the perfect blend of sonic experimentation, open ended trajectories, uncompromising density, off-kilter tuning and - let's not forget - razor-sharp melodic hooks buried deep and snagging the unwary.
Predictably but no less tinglingly, the show opened with the impossibly shimmering spirit desire of 'Teenage Riot', Kim Gordon's breathy prelude the gathering clouds to Thurston' Moore's sudden thunderclap - the urgency in stark contrast to his occasional laconic daydreaming. The punishing punk surge of 'Silver Rocket' burned brightly, chased hot on its heels by Kim's menacing 'The Sprawl' - a steel trap with lurid candy luring us into its bone-snapping jaws.
''Cross The Breeze' keeps the wick well alight, with the next major change in direction coming with Lee Ranaldo waxing near-sensically through 'Eric's Trip', as a railroad runs through the record store at night.
'Total Trash' is no misnomer, yet it's a case of pop-tinged detritus - a tangy taste of Washing Machines to come. Ranaldo takes the vocals again for 'Hey Joni', a dirty mess with moments of jangling clarity, metallic ringing like church bells pealing across the litter-strewn town square. 'Providence' breaks in disconcertingly, drawing in sampled answering machine messages that sound like Houston transmissions and all.
'Candle' was one of the evening's treasures. Tight little note clusters spilling into jagged riffs, then a chugging undertow stringing is along, the interplay between Lee, Kim and Thurston was at its best, intermingling ideas that clashed and coalesced in equal measure, creating a wonderful whole. It spilt perfectly into 'Rain King', a dark and dirgy noise-fest forced along by heavy kicking on the drums and monsoonal cymbal splashing.
'Kissability' has lashings of that, but expect a black eye to follow if you try your luck. Kim's confusing taunting, drawing you in and pushing you away, lays upon a bed of squalling licks, leaving us much in need of the release promised by 'Trilogy'. Part a) 'The Wonder' begins strangled, but finds the odd breathing place. Part b) 'Hyperstation' is another set pinnacle, an epic, cutting affair that again draws together Kim, Lee and Thurston perfectly, the drums punching in just the right places. It's like a summary of all that's gone before, a map with which to understand the Daydream Nation journey. Tiny little riffs come and go, nicking at our heels, pushing as along into 'z) Eliminator Jr', in which Kim leave us bruised and exhilarated.
One wonders, when ears finally stop ringing, exactly what the terms of Sonic Youth's Faustian deal might have included. These perpetual teenagers push musical boundaries and expectations on album after album, side project after side project, tour after tour, never seeming to lose their enthusiasm or hunger. Tonight's Daydream Nation set was, thankfully, not a note-for-note attempt to recapture whatever it was that they were seeking to say at the time. It was a revisiting but also a revision, refining and redefining as they went.
There's a risk that a venture such as this could prove to be nought but a nostalgic trip down long forgotten lanes, but in the hands of Sonic Youth it proved anything but. We, along with the band perhaps, were reminded of where much of the journey began.
Back on the road of the riot trail, we're once again ready for anything.
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