Live Review: Worried Noodles at the Knitting Factory [12.5.07]

The release party (and benefit for Amnesty International) at the Knitting Factory for wacky Scottish artist David Shrigley’s Worried Noodles compilation was appropriately befitting of the artist's uncanny sensibilities. The night was one of several shows put on around the world to fete Shrigley’s collection of song lyrics interpreted and recorded by some of the current music scene's most quirky.



The evening started off in the venue’s “Main Space”, with artists performing underneath a screen projecting Shrigley’s drawings and lyrics. Phil Elverum (aka Mount Eerie) and Nick Krgovich took turns playing solo, and then came together to perform “Sentimental Song,” straightforwardly intoning the lyrics “Why is there a picture of a penis on your fridge door? / It makes me feel awkward whenever I'm in you kitchen”. I would have to pinpoint that as the moment when it became quite clear that the ensuing evening would be something of an awkward experience for all of us.



In addition to that uncomfortable penis-fridge door song, Elverum and Krgovich also performed Shrigley-penned lyrics about wearing flip flops to climb a mountain (why not?), and a catchy number about sitting on things: “bean bag/bean bag/ whatcha doing sitting on that bean bag? / tree stump/ tree stump/whatcha doing sitting on that tree stump?”





A stripped down incarnation of Islands (the other members couldn’t be there “because of the snow and the border…’cause we’re from Canada” explained singer Nick Diamonds) performed a strange set during which they covered Tom Petty’s “Don’t Come Around Here No More”, sang two different versions of the Shrigley song “Joy” (“there is joy to be had/when you’re crazy mental mad”) and invited audience members to jump onstage and participate in “Shrigley-oke”; providing backing music as strangers sang the lyrics to songs such as “Elaine is a Danger” and "Bad Egg". After Shrigley-oke disintegrated, we were all ushered one flight down to the Tap Room, where experimental lo-fi crooner R. Stevie Moore performed with a motley band (inexplicably including a gentleman dressed in a biohazard suit), and then the San Francisco-based Tussle treated us to some extended jam outs with traces of dub, funk and free-jazz (though according to the band, they take a “no-genre” approach). Tussle's sound is undoubtedly dynamic, and they are quite competent musicians, but their lengthy set seemed to clear the room quite a bit.




The one man band that is YACHT, (aka Jona Bechtolt) closed out the show. Whereas Islands invited the audience up on to the stage, after pressing play on his backing track, YACHT chose to improvise a stage right there on the floor, singing and sweating to his stellar homemade beats right there among the grinning masses.




At that point in the evening, we’ve heard songs about tree stumps and squirrels, anatomy and insanity, been herded from one floor to another, seen band members dressed as if for Halloween - somehow after all of that, shimmying around a half empty room with a skinny guy popping and locking and belting out geeky falsetto dance jams seems to be the most normal thing that’s happened all night. If anything, this is just standard protocol for anyone who's ever been to a Dan Deacon show.



The folks that had stuck around until nearly midnight when YACHT began performing were truly rewarded for their patience. With moves like early Beck, but seemingly without the irony, YACHT gave us our money’s worth. The singer even opened up a Q and A session to the small crowd, during which one enthusiastic young man asked the singer: “Smooth or chunky peanut butter?” After some thought, YACHT replied, “Chunky.” “YES!” exclaimed the man. I guess YACHT gave the right answer. Whew.

Though I’ve never met David Shrigley, and he was unfortunately not in attendance that night (though I suppose he could have been there in disguise) I have to surmise that the artist who spends his time sketching man-dolphins and the like would have found the unwieldy night most enjoyable. Though I left the Knitting Factory a bit perplexed about what had just gone on, I have a feeling Shrigley would have relished in my discomfort. And then maybe written song lyrics about it.

[Photos by Leia Jospe]