STS9

On the surface, there’s something ironic about a STS9 new year’s show. For a band with its early roots in the cosmic neon arithmetic of natural time and the Mayan calendar, the 31st of December might not be that important, except for it being the biggest party nights of the year. But for the past few years (since 2000, really), they’ve been able to pull off a good trick – transmuting the pent up potential energy of New Year’s eve into huge creative explosions. This year would turn out to be no different.

Now that I look back on it, it was easy to tell from the start that things were different for this run. 2005 has seen the shift in the band’s music that began in 2003 come into its full expression. Gone is the shakiness, the sometimes out-of-tune fuckups and uncertainty. That’s been replaced by a sound that, although still instantly recognizable, has become for lack of a better word, “bigger.” If there was a slogan for 2006, it might be “STS9, now bigger.” Almost all of their songs have been reworked and expanded upon in recent months, some with entirely new sections and rhythms. And instead of taking it easy in their newfound free time (finally earned through years of steady touring), they have redoubled their energies and come away from months of rigorous practice in their adopted home-base of Santa Cruz with about a dozen new songs including a few major works. But all that was still floating in the air by show time on the 29th, like the electric, effortless and familiar vibe fans have come to expect from these kinds of events.

So, the shows on the 29th and 30th were big. Highlights on Friday included a surprisingly powerful "Satori" opener and a "Baraka" encore that was probably among the best jams played the entire weekend. The energy continued to build on the 30th, which brought a scorching version of the band’s classic funk turned drum and bass heater “Ramone &Emiglio” early in the first set. All of these exhibited probably the most promising trend of 2005, that of guitarist Hunter Brown fully stepping up his presence in the mix.

One of the special things about STS9 is that it doesn’t have a “front man” in the typical sense. In fact the lack of ego involved in their music is so complete that no band member seems entirely comfortable soloing. But the past few years have seen Hunter gain much-needed confidence in his own playing. While the music has always been propelled by a strong core of drum and bass, Hunter has increasingly become an energetic catalyst, launching an otherwise tame or low-key musical passage into new orbits, bringing the rest of the band (and all of us) right along with him. David Phipps in particular seems to love playing off of Hunter’s energy in the mix, adding insanely subtle ambient flourishes and pounding out crushingly beautiful notes over top of the cresting guitar-waves. In particular, songs like the new composition “Open E” see Hunter take the lead with searing intensity with a louder, crunchy and distorted sound that echoes Trey Anastasio and John McLaughlin, both undoubtedly major influences.

Like the new sounds, of which there were too many to note, the openers and guest artists for these shows also reflected the changing nature of STS9’s music and potential fanbase. It’s no secret that Sector 9 has recently been on mission to blow the fuck up. And there’s nothing wrong with that at all. But inviting Elliot Lipp and Scott Heren (in his Prefuse 73 manifestation) was not about “reaching out” to the indie electonica crowd or jumping on any bandwagon. It was about showing support, exposing the fans to new voices, and probably most of all about energetic collaboration with artists that STS9 both respects and takes inspiration from. As David Murphy told the crowd on the 30th in typically humble fashion, “we should be opening for them.”

Except for perhaps LTJ Bukem, no electronic artist has been more influential on STS9’s new sound than Scott Heren, whose broken beats and huge synth-heavy riffs as Prefuse 73, STS9 has clearly taken inspiration from. That’s not “biting,” but inspired borrowing in the same way the Rolling Stones and Bob Dylan took sounds and whole songs from the Blues and other seminal rock groups like the Velvet Underground. Pablo Picasso put it best when he said, “good artists borrow, great ones steal.” Tokyo, with its huge Prefuse-inspired breakdown rocks harder than anything I’ve heard from STS9 or Heren. The fact that he really showed and gave such an enthusiastic performance, rocking the MPC alongside Elliot Lipp over beats spanning all of his albums, confirms that he is totally on the level as well. It was total professionalism &positivity. The only question on my mind (and many others’) was why he wasn’t turned up as loud as STS9, or even the DJs that spun between sets.

For all the changes, though, STS9 is still all about community and supporting like-minded artists. Painting their visionary landscapes into existence on either side of the stage were artists Kris Davidson, whose own work has evolved just as fast, if not more so, than STS9s, and J. Garcia (representing, like the opening DJs, both east and west coasts). On the ambiance tip, San Francisco-based light artisan Kaia Jacobi controlled a vast (and blinky) LED display behind the stage and Floral wizard Anthony Ward blessed the stage with flowing, organic sculpture while behind the scenes organizing a few midnight surprises. This is why STS9 shows are so special. It’s not just about music, it’s about taking seriously our collective potential for creativity, and nurturing and cultivating that potential. Because, really, that’s what we’re all here for.

As for the New Year’s show itself, it is hard to know what to say about it. The predominant feeling at the show, while it was happening and afterwards, was one of disbelief. Questions floating around where twofold – first, “where the fuck did that come from?” and second “what does this mean for the band and its fans as a community?” Once thing was for certain – some serious shit went down.

We knew going in that the band had been “practicing” and that, as David Murphy posted online, “there were a few surprises in store.” But nothing could have really prepared us for what happened as the second set began. Before I get to that, though, let me say this: the mothership has landed. The new songs they debuted (and the more recent ones that accompanied them early on) were as funky as anything I’ve heard. This was not “white boy” funk, or even, as much as I dislike the word, “jam band” funk. This was alien, Cronic-era-Dre-meets-Bootsy-Collins P-FUNK of the highest order. I kept waiting for Big Boi, whose brother, coincidentally, was working the venue that night, and Andre 3000 to emerge from a cloud of smoke and merge with these beats. They were that dirty. I mean, I don’t know what interdimensional being David Phipps got his new synth sounds from, but they sound huge. There were some missteps, like the overlong and repetitive breakdown in the otherwise stellar new composition “Pianonoir,” but for the most part the new tunes are surprisingly dope.

Songs from STS9’s recently released Artifact also benefited from reworking and came out sounding fresher than ever. Versions of “Native End,” “Somesing” and “Glogli” where more fully fleshed out, more atmospheric and swimming with subtle electronic flourishes courtesy of pretty much everyone in the band. One of the nice things about experiencing Sector 9 live is that you have no idea at any given point what sounds are being produced by which band member, or even what instrument – such is the wealth of sounds and textures that modern live electronic music affords. A hugely expansive version of “Movements” was a return to form in a Bukem-esque drum and bass style that recalled the more stretched-out excursions of STS9’s early days and a surprise cover of the Boards of Canada song “ROYGBIV” was like a surprising confirmation from the band that “yes, we take electronic music as seriously as you do.”

Back to New Year’s Eve. The energy was clearly peaking as we approached midnight. Spontaneous cheers spread like wildfire in the open lobby of the Tabernacle, waking up all the old spirits inhabiting the building and announcing the arrival of some new ones. The obligatory “2006” sunglasses began to appear and that familiar nervous excitement set in.

Now, I don’t know about everyone else – but it seems to me that to drop not one, but three brand new songs in a row at the beginning of the second set of one of the biggest shows of a band’s career takes some serious balls. And it worked. Probably the best of all the new songs, "Warrior" was not only a soaring, epic, emotionally charged affair, but it turned out to be so powerful as to obliterate the whole concept of “New Year’s Eve.” After the countdown (David Murphy from the stage: “aight let’s do the damn thing.”), when the song really began to burst open, the idea of placing so much emphasis on a single moment, when 2005 became the equally irrelevant 2006, became almost ridiculous. For that stretch we were timeless, soaring with the music beyond any artificial constraints. Love and energy flowed and formed with hugs and smiling exchanges throughout the floor and balconies while flower petals were thrown by the bucket-full and showered over the ecstatic crowd along with what felt like gallons of water courtesy of some overly enthusiastic fans. The latter gave the effect of a fresh spring rain infusing the theatre. “Happy new year” indeed.

Apparently, much of the band’s practice in the months prior to NYE were focused on just this show. Mid-way in the second set, it clearly paid off when right as the drum and bass jam Hubble was peaking, the entire low end went due to a sub-woofer blowing out. Happening just as I’d decided to get up out of my seat to dance it out, it had the effect of a warped pressure drop, totally throwing me for a loop until a friend beside me confirmed it with an excited tap to her ear. The music immediately shifted to mirror the crowd’s tension, turning into a dark, minimal electro beat: the whole thing became very high drama. Fortunately the crew was on there toes and the bass kicked back in to thunderous cheers from the audience, flooding in like a deep inhalation after a long out breath, all of which must have been baffling from the stage, where the band (unbelievably) wasn’t aware of the technical difficulties as they were happening. The illuminated cosmic soul harmonies that signaled the opening of a remixed “Really Wut?” were the perfect followup to the sound problems &tense drama of Hubble, lifting the vibe into the spheres and immersing the crowd once again in warm bass tones and familiar, sparkling electronic waves.

That was just one instance. I could go on, picking up this or that intense moment or musical passage. There were a million stories, infinite angles of experience brought by every individual in attendance. What it all added up to was a powerful statement of purpose, from a band that seems to still be on its upward arc and shows no signs of slowing down anytime soon. Those not lucky enough to be in attendance can rest assured that the event was thoroughly documented, for better or worse. Cameras hung on huge motorized arms were positioned almost everywhere, capturing all the action (including fans in various stages of freak-out) for a DVD reported to be coming out within months. If it wasn’t before, the cat is now officially out of the bag.

If there was one shortcoming of the show, it would have to be that it ended too early. When the lights came up to the sound of Michael Jackson’s 1979 hit “Don’t Stop ‘Till You Get Enough” put it just about perfectly, and the Tabernacle turned into a full-on disco party. In a perfect world (where there are no curfews), a crew of DJs (got Bassnectar?) would have taken the wheels on the main stage (or the one downstairs for that matter) to take the party to sunrise, a journey which most of the crowd would love to have taken. But that is what the future is for.

Photos by Jesse Cohn