White Schoolhouse hosted NY’s Godcaster for night of indie rock chaos

July 8, 2024

Andrew Dodderidge,

Godcaster. // photo by Andrew Dodderidge

Godcaster w/ Blanky and Wyla
White Schoolhouse
Friday, June 14

“We’re Godcaster and we’re the greatest band in the world,” said Godcaster frontman Judson Kolk at a recent New York show.

They likely opened that set with the first song off their recently self-titled release, the three-minute and forty-five second “Diamond’s Shining Face,” quasi-skramz and all, just like they did at White Schoolhouse on Friday, June 14.

One could argue that the giant white house located right off I-70 and 59 highway in Lawrence would be the best way to experience everything that they do best, and to a tee.

Stories of pre-pandemic Godcaster—an experimental, art rock band out of New York and Philly—note that the sextet compressed their energy into semicircles, raising fists and tambourines into the air in cult-like maneuvers. Kolk—who began his venture into the creation of music with fellow bandmate Bruce Ebersole at the age of eight—burdened the group’s second LP with the same atmosphere from those live sets, whether it be turning short freak-outs into six to seven-minute long expansions, dipping his lyricism into dreams of bullets piercing the sky (“Draw Breath Cry Out”), or quiet and sincere moments around loved ones (“Pluto Shoots His Gaze Into the Sun”).

“Didactic Flashing Antidote” is one of those expansions—a nearly 11-minute cut that finds its way into the set most nights for these lads. David McFaul is crooning away into the giant abyss before his eyes further cement the cultish preconceived tendencies. “Pluto,” a song that Kolk believes lights their set up on the worst of nights, made its presence felt towards the end of the 45-minute run, and for those there who weren’t aware of Godcaster beforehand, signaled a moment of transformation from the Deftones-inspired opener.

The group’s follow-up to the ever-blazing Long Haired Locusts is stripped of the giddiness of the group’s debut, dirtied, and stretched out to create something that fully represents the amount of space these guys can cover from their diverse backgrounds. The best compliment I can give Kolk—who we spoke to a few weeks back—and the gang is that, even though the music itself stands for room for ironing out, the exuberance is so infectious that it’s a hard gripe to stand behind.

Like in the way “Vivian Heck” climaxes in-person or the obviously-rooted ‘60s/’70s rock vibes of the new single “Lady Said a Body,” which flipped a switch about three or four songs in. Night-ender “Gut Sink Moan” does exactly all three of the things that track title makes claim of.

Their debut LP fools around with dance punk, prog, and jazz fusion, often resembling Minutemen with its math-y sprints, the resulting EP Saltergasp continues the Dionysian guitar frenzies in a salute to the recent ramblings of Black Midi, the self-titled dives headfirst into religious and hypnotic chant-like rhythms, like if Deerhoof began to throw it all up into the air.

The influences just mentioned run rampant, but in a kind and gentle way—a way where you don’t know exactly what you’re hearing so you have to compare/contrast with something to make sense of the sound. The additional keyboard for Jan Fontana and others further contribute to that.

Each chance, they show the world what they’ve got up their sleeve, casting these numerous influences into a small and distinct web for a wholly unique aural experience. The live show is no different. Kolk made his way into the crowd with his acoustic guitar during the latter half of their performance, weaving through the couple dozen spread-out souls he touched on his second trip to the state, scurrying from left to right, leaving the minute or two up for grabs on the unpredictability scale. With so few people in attendance, it felt like anything was possible.

You could say it’s the same feeling you get when listening to Long Haired or Saltergasp, recorded to tape in Philly basements years back, the same environment present on this night in Lawrence.

Wyla. // photo by Andrew Dodderidge

Local groups Blanky and Wyla contributed heavily to the night’s success, controlling a loose atmosphere that transitioned from basement to backyard in a smooth and calm manner. Why do we go to shows? To feel moved? To be around other people? To lock into the sound of the music? This felt bizarre after just attending Say Anything’s return to KC, with a crammed, tight-knit audience the night before. With some distance, it’s a memory—a place I will seek out for a future return.

All photos by Andrew Dodderidge:

Godcaster