Disco Biscuits @ Starland Ballroom, NJ
March 4th, 2008 - by aeshleman
The tag line for the Disco Biscuits’ Feb. 29 and March 1 performances assured guests that this show would be “The Greatest Leap Year Ball of Them All.” And they delivered as promised.
The Disco Biscuits are a Philadelphia-based jam-band who pioneered the trance-fusion genre. Show after show, they dish out a throbbing deluge of techno beats laced with jubilant melodies and raging progressive structures. They’ve amassed a huge cult following of ravers and jam-band aficionados. They are a regular fixture at major music festivals nationwide and a huge force to be reckoned with on the East Coast jam band scene.
While there weren’t any tuxedos, fine Champaign or snooty hor dourves at this ball, there was no shortage of music, dancing or good times. But these things are, of course, to be expected at a concert. What made this night something to be remembered was the costume contest.
Fans were invited to be creative and dress up as their favorite Disco Biscuit song to compete for two tickets to Camp Bisco, the annual three-day summer music festival hosted by the Biscuits. With this powerful incentive to sport the wildest and wittiest costume, the resulting menagerie of glow sticks, glitter and card board was priceless.
But enough about that, no one came for the crazy costumes; they came for the jams.
The show began with a surprise. Guitarist Jon Gutwillig hobbled on stage with crutches and preformed seated in a worn swivel chair. Maybe as a result of painkillers he had taken for his ankle, Gutwillig’s performance that night left a lot to be desired. Throughout their two sets he kept losing the beat and flubbing riffs, leaving Magner, the keyboard player, to pick up his slack.
After discussing the matter with friends after the show, we determined Gutwillig’s impotence most likely stemmed from the intimidating presence of Ann-Marie Calhoun, a violin virtuoso who came out and jammed with the Biscuits for some of the second set. While she was on stage, Gutwillig was at his worst.
Calhoun’s detrimental affect on Gutwillig aside, this classically trained musician really added a nice touch to the tried and true Disco Biscuit sound. The violin’s distinctive timbre worked well with the guitar. It created a wholly unique sound and was a perfect compliment to “Overture,” a classical-style song that showcases the band’s technical prowess.
Gutwillig entirely redeemed himself for the encore, however, spiritedly shredding as he is usually known to do.
The next night, they took the stage with a fervor and presence that picked up right where the encore left off. I was a little disappointed from the previous night’s sub-par performance, but soon forgot all about that. Within the first seconds it became apparent that Gutwillig was primed for an amazing show.
The first set was flawless. I mean they absolutely killed it. They beat any remaining skepticism from last night to a bloody pulp, chopped it up into little bits in a bathtub and distributed its remains across New Jersey; it was like last night had never happened.
I’ve seen these guys play something like 12 times now, and this was definitely the most intense show yet.
“It’s orgasmic,” said one friend, for whom this show was his first, “That’s the best way to describe it. It’s like sex.”
And he’s absolutely right. The Biscuits will typically build up a jam’s dynamics with such patience that it drives you crazy. Just when you think it’s reached its climax, it gets better, more intense. Strobe lights kick on, Gutwillig finds a higher note to ride, Alan’s drums beat faster and faster on your chest, Brownstein’s bass makes you rock harder and harder, Magner’s keys sweep you up higher and higher. Before you know it, you’ve got a mess in your pants.
Next, like the calm after a devastating hurricane, they seamlessly transition to a delicate denouement. A wave of euphoria sweeps the crowd. Never have I seen a band exhibit such command over an audience.
My friend, a virgin before tonight, wasn’t previously into the Biscuits or jam-bands in general but had completely thrown out his voice by the end of the show.
“Where have I been!?,” he shouted to me between songs.
The most memorable moment of both nights came unexpectedly at the end of the second set. Right in the middle of the riveting conclusion to “Astronaut,” Gutwillig tossed his guitar six feet into the air. He then jumped up from his chair without crutches and vehemently smashed it while his befuddled bandmates finished the song.
Ever since Pete Townsend, guitar smashing has become a corny rock and roll cliché. But this was spectacular. All the times I’ve seen him, Gutwillig has only played two guitars: A worn Gibson hollow-body and a PRS (pieces of which I’ll be looking for on eBay). I’m certain this was entirely spontaneous, as the band looked as shocked as the audience. With this single act, Gutwillig crystallized this show in the memories of all in attendance. Bravo!
. They proceeded, at break neck speed, through a hour and a half set which mixed new material with old favorites.
