The Research @ Carpe Diem
By Dan Kiener
A boiling hot summer's evening, I've got my best shirt on, and over the road there's a giant pool of water in which someone is sinking a giant mock-up of the Titanic. Good times, good people. In Carpe Diem, a horde of folks gathers and sweats to see Dungeon Dungeon.
I'm sick of the LS6 hardcore scene; I'm sick of pissy elitists trying their hardest to sound like Shellac; I'm sick of bands who act as if they've been let into some higher knowledge that everyone who doesn't like hardcore will never understand, but merely holler and scream about having their cock's sucked. And Dungeon Dungeon stray too close to this bullshit Shellac scenester territory.
Dungeon Dungeon fanny around rather pointlessly with two drummers (although you can only hear one) and apply some howling guitar scrapes over the top. There is no bass, and no vocals. There are no discernable songs, and everyone onstage looks like they're jamming until they grow totally bored of a riff or rhythm. I can't handle this tonight, I want to dance and laugh not cry and get irate. If I wanted to see this, and see it done well, I'd go see the infinitely superior That Fucking Tank. For now, I'm just going to walk outside and see if I can see the Titanic sink.
A little while later and I'm back inside. The crowd has grown noisy, probably the drink. From somewhere there comes a ghostly voice, repeating and chilling. A hush lulls over the room and people scoot to the stage to see David Thomas Broughton, who is creating layers of banshee-esque vocals, looped on a delay pedal, constantly adding and expanding. For a while he is hypnotic, and for a while his gentle lament makes every cigarette smell like incense... but then it just keeps going and going and descends into dullness. The concept is very bold, and the addition of guitar and electric drums into the mix is interesting, but a whole set made up of 7-second refrains looped over and over does get rather tedious. Spectacular beard, though.
Due to technical issues, The Research take to the stage much later than planned. They are also battling illness, their drummer rendered all but voiceless. People have strted leaving, and the odds are stacked against them. However, they emerge victorious, defiant and grinning widely.
The marginally handicapped rhythm section drives and bounces the songs along while Russell the Disaster adds layer, texture and groove with a dilapidated kiddie keyboard. The result is some of the most uplifting and original pop music on the planet - I feel like I'm the kid in the flight of the navigator and some uber-cool spaceship is at my behest, and this is the stuff I'd listen to when I'm travelling at the speed of light. The Research's most prevalent weapon is their astounding wit: referential nods to the Beach Boys and perfect barbershop harmonies, and truly heartbreaking lyrics. Soon-to-be-released single "She's Not Leaving" is utterly perfect alternative pop, packed full of nuance and quirk, but strangely powerful and poignant. The Research also have the capability to make everyone laugh and dance, and if I look around I can see everyone smiling and grooving and joking and having the time of their lives, to the perfect soundtrack for summer. Incredible.
