For a moment we stood there consumed by the deafening silence that rolled over us pell-mell like shattered glass. Neumos was packed and now silent. A face draped in a graying Van Dyke paused to reiterate that this was fucking intense before making his way towards the exit like the mirror image of a refugee trying to make sense of the chaos that had redefined his once lucid existence. Outside people huddled together and spoke in hush tones trying to re-acclimate themselves.
Prior to the show I spoke to my friend in Salt Lake City. He informed me that I should try to keep my eyes closed, and feel as much of the sound as I could. It would help in preventing sensory overload — not leaving my ears with so much responsibility. His advice was wise.
When I arrived at Neumos the number of people present struck me as odd and there was a steady stream of lemmings still marching towards the sea. Every time that I've tried to play a Black Dice song for someone they've reacted just short of violent. It was refreshing to see such a healthy crowd.
Black Dice took the stage and at first the conversations around me were conspiring to drive me to extreme actions. Before that could happen, the intricate sounds of something post-human and breathtaking made the mosaic of voices insignificant. The layers of sounds created began to swell and become more intricate, layered and sonic as they grew into something self-sustaining. The noise was created by the band but not of the band. I don't know if I can put what I witnessed into words. For sure, I can't do it any justice. Black Dice's live show is the soundtrack for your dialogue with whatever it is that is bigger than your existence.