PHOTOS/REVIEW: Slauson Malone 1/ Colloboh at Ukie Club
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WRITTEN/PHOTOS BY: Sydney Martin
On October 19th, Slauson Malone 1, the musical and performative project of Jasper Marsalis, had a show at the Ukie Club in Philadelphia, PA. Colloboh, experimental composer and producer, opened for them. For the opening set the stage’s inward sloping walls were animated by a colorful projection of graphics, his enchanting, breathless set of sounds further brought to life by these visuals. Although time ceased to exist during the set, it lasted around an hour or so, each song seamlessly transitioning to the next.
Deeply focused Colloboh spent the duration unplugging and reassembling a jumble of wires hooked up to a modular synthesizer, a language foreign to many but clearly second nature to Colloboh. His electronic compositions were laced with organic sounds; bells, birds and samples of ethereal voices seemingly sourced from a dream.
Although lyrics were devoid from his set, Colloboh’s ability to create a linear scape of emotionally provoking sound allowed the wordless set to communicate on a personal level with the audience. His hypnotizing set prepared the crowd for Slauson Malone 1’s performance that was to follow.
Slauson Malone 1 came on stage wordlessly, closing their eyes for some time beside their cellist, Nicky Wetherell, who watched them with the intensity of the audience. Whether it was prayer or ritual, Slauson Malone opened their eyes after a few long moments and the music began. The stage was stark with the projected elements from Colloboh’s preformance having been removed; harsh yellow light shined down on the dark wood of the stage, casting sickly shadows on Slauson Malone and their cellist.
The set started off with Smile #6 (see page 198 & 158), the first half narrated by the gentle chords of an acoustic guitar, fluctuating from meloncholy to optimistim before transitioning into poetically pained rap lyrics. Slauson Malone approached the microphone for the first song they sang with a soft granular voice, proceeding to adjust the sound system after a few words, transforming their voice before the audience into a low velvety pitch. Amongst Slauson Malone’s ever- changing and often distorted vocals throughout the set, allowing the audience to hear their voice in its raw form was one of many displays of vulnerability Jasper Marsalis exhibited that night.
Overarchingly, the emotional tones of Slauson Malone’s compositions were of anguish, further emphasized through the performance. During The Flying Africans board mothership ZONG! to colonize the new nubian planet called X “ the world laughs as it turns another degree, hotter” (see pages 44, 127, 102-136, 147) one moment their entire body was thrusted forward in a powerfully stiff scream, the next their feet back on the stage, swaying calmly with a stoic expression on their face. Although Slauson Malone’s erratic behavior throughout the set was undecipherable, it made the show all the more enticing.
Frantic plucking of the bass and quick-tempoed bowing at times pierced the air — similar in tonality, Slauson Malone propelled themselves off the stage and onto the floor at the intro of one of the songs, standing up to ask the crowd what time it was. As though as apathetic as the perpetuality of time, their voice was monotonous, speaking quietly as sounds of a clicking clock played.
The deep tenor of the cello assisted in producing unique sounds of both betrayal and grief, further expressed in the performance. Slauson stumbled away from the microphone as if tossed back by some invisible force during a lyrical pause in The Wake Pt.3 & 2 (see page 87,58, and 48) looking around with a lost, pained expression.
Through their movement, the musicians became one with the music, mesmerizingly operating as a single organism.
Being that Slauson Malone is genreless work of art, capsulated in the body of Jasper Marsalis, this allowed the show to be all the more personal. Both the performance and experimental music was up for interpretation, bound to evoke great emotion from each member of the audience.
Jasper Marsalis performed a beautifully tragic martyr, both rattling and soothing my soul.
Despite the range of uncomfortable emotions Slauson Malone 1’s show evoked, underlying was the comforting notion that someone else is also deeply familiar with heartbreak, grief, and anguish — so much so they were able to dissect and arrange them into a stunning work of art. Undeniably, the show forced the audience to acknowledge such emotions through an eclection of electronic music.
If given the opportunity, Colloboh, Slauson Malone 1 and Nicky Wetherell, are musicians who all should be seen live at least once in your lifetime. Without a doubt, their performances will be both deeply impactful and divinely breathtaking.
