Smile for Boris

Now that I'm no longer scared to like Japanese art-metal band Boris, I checked out their free headlining show at South Street Seaport. Following a politically-charged, high-energy performance by KRS-One, the rock innovators from the land of the rising sun silently erected their gear in preparation for their assault on the East River.

Steam poured out of fog machines while the band gathered in the middle of the stage, black-garbed, solemn-faced and flashing horns. A splash of processed sound effects (a childbirth? a hospital?) gave way to Wata's devastating guitar lead in "Buzz-In, " and the whole band hurtled into the blaring track from this year's Smile. The strobe light flashes and punk-inspired racket seemed incongruous with the band themselves, who, excluding drummer Atsuo, were calm and composed performers, barely moving any muscle unrelated to their instruments while subjecting us to their noisy opuses.



One highlight was "Statement," a stoner-metal nightmare heavier than anything that Kyuss ever dreamed up. Having seen two released versions this year (the Japanese Smile release features a more ambient take, whereas gringos get the balls-out rocking rendition,) Boris combined the two to create a bridge between Sonic Youth and the Melvins that would've rocked Kurt Cobain's existence. Guitarist Wata and two-necked guitarist/bassist Takeshi piped in with train-whistle vocals that fought with their instruments' distortion for our ears. Melding heavy feedback, chugging riffs and some Van Halen-esque guitar wailing, Boris were at their best when purely rocking out.

The band's spacier material, such as Smile's 20-minute, untitled closing track, was atmospheric if less compelling. Sonically exciting but musically undistinguished, Boris' noise collage indulgences are comparative to the Grateful Dead's jamming--fanatics will eat it up and the rest of us will wait for the songs to come in. Fortunately, come in they did, especially on the abrupt, shred-heavy "Laser Beam" and the heavily veiled J-pop tune "My Neighbor Satan."



Atsuo, the exception to the band's composed presence, attacked his instruments while hamming it up as if he'd taken drum lessons from Tommy Lee. He was the only band member to dive into the front row when the set ended, grinning, and waving while the feedback from the last song melted what was left of our eardrums. Some will scoff at such rock star antics, others will check their watches during the droning segments, but everyone should see this band live.