Eric Chenaux/Thee Silver Mt. Zion at Skully's

The thick drizzle of a thunderstorm was the perfect setting for an evening of pounding, powerful, moving, eerie music from this experimental Canadian collective. I was familiar with their music, thanks to my future Brother-in-Law, Adam (aka html ninja, Silver Galactus), who introduced them to me, along with Godspeed and Fly Pan Am. And he even made the trip up from Cincinnati last night to witness in person the music he had been absorbing through speakers and headphones for the past nine years.

The opener, Eric Chenaux, also from Canada, had one brief moment of beauty in his otherwise boring, often painful, half-hour set. That moment came during the skronky funk jam of his third number. In that song, he had a great balance of jamming buildup and stop-on-a-dime silence, it was agonizingly awesome. The rest of his set, however, was more akin to the kind of noodling, pointless tunes you'd hear drifting up the basement stairs with the pungent stench of pot smoke and stale beer, evidence of a band that has more ambition than talent.

Lucky for us, Silver Mt. Zion washed any remnants of Chenaux from our palates, cleansing our ears with thundrous bass, tingling strings, and eerie arrangements. The setlist was six songs including the encore, but it was an epic journey to hell and back for the minds and souls of everyone in the club. A trip I will not soon forget.

If you've ever heard Thee Silver Mt. Zion (or other bands of their ilk ie: Godspeed, etc), you will know that the music is cerebral, evocative and inspiring. Last night, that translated to images and visions that I had to put into words, even in the clustered crowd of a rock and roll show. So in response to the show last night, I give you all a collection of vignettes inspired by the songs I was experiencing first hand, mere inches away from their source. Enjoy.


"Mountains Made of Steam" or More Grey than Brown

The creaking age and cracked paint of the walls stand above the Payne's Grey water; color constancy in action. The waves mimicking the roiling seaside clouds, about to burst into storm over the foamy peaks.

The weathered wooden porch stands askew on the empty house, the wood more grey than brown, screens torn by the wind, unmended by man. Wet-brown pits of footprints mark the grey, vacant expanse of smooth sand. Windswept and barren, meager patches of seagrass cling to the stiff, gritty soil, sometimes blown flat, sometimes stock still.


"1,000,000 Died to Make This Sound" or Echo Chambers of Silence

There is a hallway with identical cells on either side. Hundreds of rooms, each the same as the rest, stark pairs with nothing inside; bare walls and floors, echo chambers of silence.

There is a Victorian Gothic blast, all brass and storm, and explosions of sound shake the very earth. An asylum wrapped in ivy, roots ripping out mortar and souls, sanity and foundations.

A burning fire and screams for help. Hundreds of souls unaware of their fate, but fully conscious of their pain. Tens of folk escaping to save themselves, watching in safety as flames consume the wicked invalids in their charge.

As the ashes smolder into the cold light of a new day, the stench of charred flesh hangs in a fog over the estate. Souls unable to flee become poltergeists pressed into servitude on the grounds.


"There is a Light" (new song) or One Final Shot, One Final Report

The sunset wavers red on a dusty road, eagles or buzzards or hawks circle overhead in the hot updrafts from the interstate. A moment of "almost" passes by once, then twice, but still never becomes. The sky turns to bands; orange, magenta, violet, blue, black, gradients to stars.

A slammed door shatters the silence for a moment, and for a moment all is still, before the gunshot echoes into everything. Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! One shot; four, five, six reports and a scream. The wail turns to sobs and questions, tears to puffs in the dusty ground and pounding fists into the dirt.

Another shot and more reports, but this time in revenge, in satisfaction.

But remorse and grief set in when no one can see, when the room is dark and silent and eyes can't close and thoughts race to places they shouldn't. Guilt and bad things consume, sleep is elusive and the sun creeps in.

And one final shot and one final report and no more guilt and no more remorse and now just silence.


"1,000,000 Died to Make This Sound" Thee Silver Mt. Zion Memorial Orchestra
"Mountains Made of Steam" Thee Silver Mt. Zion Memorial Orchestra

Eric Chenaux: Official MySpace Buy
Thee Silver Mt. Zion: Official Wiki Buy