Matmos and So Percussion, supporting their new album Treasure State,took the stage of the Museum of Contemporary Art on Saturday night onemember at a time, to pluck the quills of an amplified cactus. Thecollaboration between the percussion quartet and the experimentalelectronic music duo was a happy one, in two senses. The music itselfwas stimulating. One standout, featuring kettle drums and xylophones,duck calls and kazoos, sounded like a soundtrack for a fantasy ridethrough a Chinese tropical jungle. As for the performance, theexuberance and light-heartedness of the players made it obvious theywere enjoying themselves.

Matmos & So Percussion - "Treasure"

The projection behind the bands, their sometimes abstract manner, andthe venue made it seem like a hybrid between an art show and aconcert. I couldn't decide whether I liked the experience better witheyes open, so I could watch and try to figure out which sounds werecoming from which instruments, or closed, to feel the percussionthumping through my body. The alteration of mood in the music made itnoticeable how what you're watching can effect you. The intensity ofconcentration evident during the opening wood block ensemble, SteveReich's Music for Pieces of Wood, as the players watched each otherand kept an intricate percussive rhythm going, made the audiencelikewise focused.

The music was engaging for a genre that often lacks heart. The sixguys onstage didn't suffer from the typical electronic band's lack ofshowmanship. Is it because of the percussion, mimicking heartbeats, orchimes, or natural sounds added to the mix? Or was it the frontman'sgeniality and banter? That, and they were actually doing something.There were computers but they didn't take center stage. The music onlybecame a bit distant toward the last couple of numbers, all of whichbegan with the creative interplay of strange sounds—chains, a conch,water being poured, sheet metal and beer cans crackling, musical saw,eery spoken word distorted by vocoder—and built up until all thosesounds gave way to a general loudness. The saxophonist of opener TigerHatchery guested, doing his screechiest free jazz best. Heavy anddistorted, the maximum density felt top-heavy, more an explosion thana crescendo. It worked until it didn't, and with overfamiliarity,fatigue set in. Music should end just before you are tired of hearingit, not just after.

The projection in the background sometimes added to the performance,but at its worst verged on performance art precocity. During onenumber, I wondered what the traffic interchange and urban landscapereflected on-screen had to with the polyrhythmic ensemble on chimes.Koyaanisqatsi it wasn't. But I shrugged, closed my eyes and forgot it.

-review and pics courtesy of Emily Johnson