Live & Local: Tangible Green at Jack’s Bar 

click to enlarge Tangible Green’s Josh Huval frightening the crowd at Jack’s Bar. - STEVEN GILMORE
  • Steven Gilmore
  • Tangible Green’s Josh Huval frightening the crowd at Jack’s Bar.

Tangible Green, a folk-noise trio comprised of two brothers from Louisiana and one trip-hop-inspired drummer from Uvalde, take the stage at Jack’s Bar with the intention to, according to bassist Dan Huval, “make music that doesn’t suck.” Within the parameters of a strip mall rock den, what they do instead is seduce and sting with impunity. On stage they express a deep, yet obviously still developing, respect for traditional improvisational gestures that inform their recent EP Breathe Heavy, produced by Gordon Raphael (the Strokes, Regina Spektor, and fellow San Antonians Education). Laying out their sonic enterprise with comely structures that lean over a definite metal-jazz edge, these boys come off like some sincere version of the Red Hot Chili Peppers by way of Robert Fripp.

As Tangible Green try out new material, they link their older, nearly 10-minute long drone score (“Naked With a Demon”) with what seems to be very minimal and effective bumper music that recalls that quick and stark Bauhaus number “St. Vitus Dance” as well as the erotic sway of that Siouxsie side project the Creatures.

Tangible Green exudes a new sound that feels familiar, tribal, like some pulse of ancient accretion warbling out of the fissures of Deadhead aesthetics. Early on in their 45-minute set lead guitarist/chief lyricist Josh Huval introduces a new song inspired by the passing of his grandfather and a mad feeling of homesickness that he and his bandmates have recently come to know. As much as I’d like to hold onto some solemnity for the grave subject matter, once these guys start to grind out this ethereal arrangement I just feel lucky to be in the smoky crowd, privy to an as-of-yet unrecorded bit of spunky psychedelia held in check by the haunted thud-thumps of arbitrary percussion. Their unpredictably bluesy sound is, to be blunt, actually frightening. In unnerving synch with drummer Sinisa Tesic’s anarchic beats, the brothers Huval are at one with a rhythmic dissonance that employs a familiarity with free jazz and zydeco.

Pushed in the right direction, this band could go the way of early Swans cluster-funk or simply be the next Simple Minds.




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