Man Man Live And Direct

Portland | Ian Anderson
About two years ago Mitch-Mitch, a friend of mine, and I were huddling over my iBook as it spewed out a klezmhyry post-apocalyptic mess of sound. “They’re amazing live,” he said, and it wasn’t that hard to believe. We were listening to Man Man’s second album, Six Demon Bag, and everything about it struck me as relevant; from the flags on the cover art waving in the wind to spell out “man man”, to track titles like “Van Helsing Boombox”, and lyrics as quotable as “high on Noreaga”. Everything about this album and this band seemed to say “Fuck Yeah!” to me.

Having now seen Man Man play live, these conceptions and ideas have only been reinforced. I have been privy to their last three shows in Portland, and the “Fuck Yeah!” attitude, that is vibed out so heavy from their recordings, is given a third dimension by their beyond impressive ability to perform. Man Man is a spectacle. The all male quintet bangs out hectic rhythms that are rivaled by a chorus of vocals shouted in voices fluctuating from deranged child like falsettos to gravelly Mike Patton-inspired baritones. All the while band members seamlessly trade instruments, and bang on an array of strange percussion from gigantic soup pots to strewn about floor toms and a surplus of cymbals, and all this whilst simultaneously blowing mightily on children’s noisemakers. The music doesn’t stop either, there will be an occasional half rest between songs, but after two beats they are right back in it and taking the crowd captive on their nineties-neon-asylum-escape-plan-Tom-Waits-inspired-trip-through-Beverly-Hills-Cop-2-pirate-ship, and as it coalesces everyone becomes more than willing to walk down that plank.

The last Portland show they played, they graced the Hawthorne Theater, (quite possibly one of Portland’s lamest venues (yeah it is even worse than the Wonder Ballroom)) with openers Typhoon and The Builders and The Butchers. Typhoon, hailing from the Boy Gorilla Records empire, built musical swells that overwhelmed the crowd with a folksy sense of pop magic. Their compositions totally rained down (ha!) on the audience, with up to twelve people playing at a time. I was not hard pressed to find at least one element in the mix that I liked; be it a French horn fanfare or a kid two-fistedly banging on a mounted bass drum with mallets, upon the crowded stage I found that every song delivered (though occasionally two songs delivered in the exact same way).

And where Typhoon left off with their “think big” take on indie pop The Builders and the Butchers picked up with their sparser bluegrass inspired style. The whole band bouncily played acoustic, while singer Ryan squawked over the top, belting it out in a style that intertwined the rawer elements from Colin Meloy with the vocal rhythms of Against Me’s Tom Gabel. Their stripped down style, and porch jam mentality made me question whether or not they gleamed the cube as well in such large venue as they would in a basement or a hole in the wall.

But from the time they came on Man Man didn’t let up, returning for an encore after playing for over an hour straight, only stopping for about fifteen seconds to tell the sound guys how to do their job. From their haunting opening with Feathers, a spooky chanting waltz that is only vocals and piano, to their ruckus rhythmic finale, Man Man came through as per usual. The only thing that made this performance differ from their previous ones that I had seen was the crowds’ competence to sing along and the gaggle of seventeen year old girls shooting me eyes.

Check out Man Man’s record Six Demon Bag, and keep in mind that they are an all male band as you listen to their mess of high pitched squeals. They also have some good videos up on their website: www.wearemanman.com. You can find The Builders and The Butchers on Myspace, www.myspace.com/thebuildersandthebutchers and the same goes for Typhoon www.myspace.com/wearetyphoon.