Cloudland Canyon

Two ways to tell that a show is amazing: nobody in the venue’s talking much and nobody’s ordering drinks. Such was the case last night at the Sunset for the Lichens/Cloudland Canyon/Richard Bishop/Acre gig (previewed here on Line Out). These performers riveted the 40 or so attendees (The Stranger’s hype machine must’ve had a few bugs in it this week) with sets that bordered on the revelatory.

Sir Richard Bishop earned his honorific with solo acoustic-guitar picking that combined—and combusted—mercurial folk picking with various ethno-sonic allusions that hinted at cultures superior to our own. Bishop played with a surprising savagery that nullified his riffing off the word “fuckstick” between songs, which became a bit tiresome after the third reference. (Dude’s sense of humor is usually much sharper than this; anyway, catch Sir Rick opening for Os Mutantes July 26 at the Moore.)

Cloudland Canyon touched on pastoral Kraut rock and subliminal techno throb in between their customary beatific dronescaping, which was bolstered by Lichens’ (Robert Lowe of 90 Day Men and TV on the Radio) contributions on FX boxes/voice/bells. This compelling set segued into Lowe’s solo shot as Lichens. Leaving his guitar at home, Lowe strictly used his vocal cords, which he fed into processors/FX pedals and layered into a sublime, wildly pitched mantra of dazzling, wordless tongues. It felt as if we were listening to a gorgeous sermon on another planet; you innately understood Lowe’s message without really sussing its origins or details. All you knew was that your entire body was coalescing into one massive goose bump and that liquor and conversation never seemed less important.