Xiu Xiu


(with Scout Niblett and Yellow Swans)
The Troubadour, Los Angeles


August 20, 2005


When Xiu Xiu’s Caralee McElroy hummed the last words of her band’s set-closing “Sad Pony Guerilla Girl,” two girls near the front of The Troubadour winced like they’d been shot. On record, Xiu Xiu’s Jamie Stewart sings the lines “I am your girl and I will protect you /we do it in the back of my little car /pull up my pants and fix my bra /go on home to your kids.” His male voice adds a safe distance; you know that whatever psychosexual violence is happening in the songs isn’t really happening to him. But when McElroy stepped to the microphone, her eyes as blank as a chalkboard, and sang the verse to the back of the room, the lines physically hurt. The two girls buckled at how personal the set suddenly became.

Stewart and his band have made a habit of toying with their audience, lacing their noisy death-disco with black humor and non sequiturs like “This is the worst vacation ever/I’m going to cut open your forehead with a roofing shingle.” But their Troubadour set was a sock to the gut. Stewart howled and trembled like a surgery patient sans anesthesia while his songs veered from deathly quiet finger-picking to ferocious blasts of white noise, often in the same song, and to overwhelming effect.

From the opening bars of Fabulous Muscles “Brian the Vampire,” McElroy and Stewart managed to make knob-twiddling and 808 programming look sexy and invigorating. Stewart tore through a cache of instruments, and seemed especially thrilled with the autoharp he used for “Bog People,” off his most recent and excellent La Forêt. “There will always be a headless neck,” he groaned. “There will always be happiness.” The lyrical contradictions boiled over in a flurry of panicked strumming and hissing electronics. McElroy tweaked a Keith Moon-sized wall of gadgetry, and it was hard to grasp the fact that only two people were making all that racket. Even when Stewart commandeered an extra snare drum on “Mousey Toy,” he attacked it with such feral energy that the backbeat sounded like bullets. By the time he got to the obligatory sing-along (by Xiu Xiu standards) of “Apistat Commander,” the wash of noise turned the immense sadness of the melody into something hopeful for the shell-shocked crowd.

Openers Yellow Swans provided something of a warm-up for Xiu Xiu’s ferocity, with a brief set of static and yelping that was all crescendo and zero structure. Ditto for the following act, Scout Niblett, whose PJ Harvey-esque howling never caught on to a good tune. It takes a true songwriter like Stewart to make such brutality meaningful, and Xiu Xiu’s inimitable wallop proved why, in a time when teen soap operas are the new underground, Xiu Xiu are one of the few indie bands that’s still challenging their audience, and rewarding them for it.


By August Brown


www.xiuxiu.org


9/2005