Concert Review: Caribou

Caribou, with Fuck Buttons

The Record Bar

Review by GREG FRANKLIN

Photos by MICHAEL FORESTER

Walking into the Record Bar, I was practically slapped in the face by the droning fuzz of Fuck Buttons, an experimental/noise duo from the UK.

On record, Fuck Buttons fully realizes the sonic subtleties of its droning keys and pushing simplistic beats almost past its potential. Live, a band like this should be completely captivating, visceral, soothing and offensive. Unfortunately, the drone of their stack of shitty old Casio keyboards and modded Game Boys really took over, and the duo went from being mad professors of noise with a penchant for building grooves over layers of fuzz to being two guys standing around with a bunch of toys, holding notes for 5 minutes with no beats or really any semblance of discernable song breaks. Occasionally Ben Power would break into tribal mode on the rack tom beside the toy table, and Andrew Hung spent a good portion of a song or two on the floor spazzing out beside crusty Art Institute kids. I spent the majority of the set wondering if the kids nodding their heads wildly to the beatless and rhythmless seasick buzz of parts of the Fuck Buttons set were listening to the same band that I was.

When the fuzz and buzz faded away, a wave of excitement hit me for a show I had been eagerly anticipating since it was announced in January. My initial exposure to Caribou was when they were the opening band for the Super Furry Animals “Love Kraft” tour. Having never heard the band prior to the show, I was completely floored (a rare occasion these days) by the then-trio’s fully visualized (but rough-hewn) mix of visuals and sound, and truly felt like I had just seen a band that exists within its own open but well-defined parameters, versus merely aping along with its contemporaries.