Live Review: Holy Fuck at 9:30 Club [1.27.08]

Cables. So many cables. Cables to the left, cables to the right. I’m not sure what Holy Fuck does with all those cables, but holy fuck does it sound good (sorry, I just couldn’t help myself).

It begins when the foursome unassumingly take the stage, half the band taking their places behind two large workstations; keyboards, turntables, all those cables, pedals, and Casios galore, the others going to the drum kit and the bass. There is an air of expectancy, as if everyone has inhaled at the same time, and is waiting for something to happen. And happen it does.
The Holy Fuck sound transfers from headphones to stage incredibly well. It’s interesting being able to watch the chaos going on, instead of just listening to it. Bathed in eerie purple and green lights, the quartet pound away, charting a course to oblivion. As the set wears on, the knob twiddling gets more frantic, and the set teeters on the blissful brink of controlled collapse. It feels like watching the band practice, because they seem blithely oblivious to the hundreds of people observing their every move, their every note. Holy Fuck is intense, dark, riotous, and the band members manage to give off the impression that they both know exactly what they’re doing yet are flying perilously by the seats of their pants. And somehow, it works for them.

The Canuck foursome endeared themselves further after a request came from the crowd for “Freebird.” About to launch into a song that was most certainly not the Skynyrd classic, the band wryly announced, “This one’s called ‘Freebird.’” Banter-wise, they just need to enunciate a little. Holy Fuck mumbles a lot.

Whoever made the call to have Holy Fuck open for the Super Furry Animals knew what they were doing. This is a band that is sonically fairly different from the Furries, but fundamentally they are in synch. It’s all about spontaneity and living in the moment, and both bands do it extraordinarily well.

[Words by Megan Petty]
[Photos by Laura O'Neill]