Photos by Drew DeGennaro
- More Galleries
- Event Details
Neon Indian is Alan Palomo, the Mexican-born, Texas-raised, brilliantly lucid 21-year-old synth-wizard who learned his production chops as part of Ghosthustler and honed them as VEGA. In October 2009 Neon Indian released his critically heralded debut album, Psychic Chasms, nearly anonymously and drew wild speculation for months. As Neon Indian, Palomo has made an art of leaving out the details and letting the world draw its own conclusions… which is very much the case with the lyrics to his the single, "Sleep Paralysist." Neon Indian formed from a batch of off-the-cuff recordings that weren't quite right as VEGA songs. It turned into something much larger than the sum of its parts. The name itself was invented by Palomo's former band-mate and high-school friend who, in a round-about way, was the inspiration behind the project's first track "Should Have Taken Acid With You" on Psychic Chasms. Not long after the music was released, Gorilla Vs. Bear blogged about it, Grizzly Bear tweeted their fan-dom, and Pitchfork sealed the deal when they bestowed "Deadbeat Summer," and Psychic Chasms with their Best New Music honor."The project really finds its groove," wrote Pitchfork, "nailing perfectly the essence of woozily nostalgic synth pop." Neon Indian was outted and all of a sudden what started as a careless outlet for ideas too offbeat to fit the VEGA mold, had gone and defined a genre. Neon Indian's sound is as Palomo describes it, "Childhood re-contextualized through a psychedelic, lo-fi filter. The idea of memory before you were old enough to have memories." Psychic Chasms intentionally captures the sound of records stored in sunlight and played to the breaking point. The album is a melting pot of hazy, lo-fi, sun kissed, electro-pop sounds that come together to form a kaleidoscopic collection of esoteric and inspiring songs.Conceived in and birthed from Austin's steamy underground houses of Rock, Auto Body is live Electro Fusion. Fueled by their shared bloodlust for sonic divinity, and armed with a war chest of synthesizers, samplers, rattlesnakes, and a bass guitar, Tibaut Bowman (DJ Thibault) and Felix Moreno (Future Rock), crusade the universe in search of the electronic Holy Grail.
Contrary to popular belief, Felix is actually the son of Argentine soccer star Jose Manuel Moreno, also known as "El Charro." Ranked as one of the the best 25 players in 20th century by the IFFHS, it is widely believed that the great El Charro died in 1978 at the age of 62. In Fact, he had faked his own death in order to escape the country to be with his one true love, Kim Ryrie. The much younger Ryrie used her Spring/Autumn love affair with Moreno as inspiration to finish her masterpiece- the first polyphonic digital sampling synthesizer known as The Fairlight CMI. As the legend goes, Ryrie and Moreno concieved Felix during the final stages of the groundbreaking synth's design and construction only to see it rise to prominence in the early 80's after their son's birth.AllegedlyFelix was literally born in the studio workshop on a soft, make-shift, bed of circuitry and hand-made audio cables. To this day the young Moreno claims to have a fullconsciousmemory of his own birth, and has dedicated his life to music theory, and electronic sound synthesis. Armed with a degree in composition from Northwestern University, and trailer full of synthesizers, Felix roams the land in quest of Electro righteousness.
Rural Texas (Christmas, 1979)- David Bowman, formerastronaut inN.A.S.A.'s controversial Experimental Space Travel Program and inspiration for Stanley Kubrik's character of the same name in his film- "2001: A Space Odyssey", was delivering his first child backstage at a sold-out live music venue. Bowman had been an outlaw on the run for over a decade ever since a fight on the set of "2001", over the film's final sequence, earned him an assault charge, and a warrant for his arrest. His whereabouts are poorly chronicled after that until a reported love affair in the late 70's with a beautiful french musician, with the last name Thibault, who was working as a roadie on Willie Nelson's U.S. tour supporting his platinum record, "Stardust." It was backstage during the performance of title track, "Stardust" that the man responsible for Kubrik's "star child" delivered his son, Thibault. (later shortened to Tibaut) As an adult, Tibaut gravitated to Austin, The Live Music Capitol of the World, where he became a musician, singer, producer, filmmaker, and successful DJ, and presently resides at the Auto Body headquarters in Brooklyn, New York.
The two went their whole lives with the feeling that there was something........someone out there that would complete their personal set of creative skills, and help form some kind of music super being. Some say it's a super group, some sayit's an abomination of noise and machinery.ONLY GOOD BANDS HAVE ANIMAL NAMES: Tiger Waves was birthed on the Internet in the spring of 2011. At that time James worked for NASA in the Department of Theoretical Cosmic Physics in Austin, TX and spent his days paying bills and playing with his little dog Pierre. Meanwhile, Reid studied continental philosophy in Chicago and avoided the cold weather whenever possible by staying inside and deconstructing his experience of the cold. After a freak shuttle accident, James was hit on the head and began believing that he was either Phil Spector (on a good day) or Syd Barrett (on a bad day). To play into these delusions, Reid went along with it claiming that he was in fact Brian Wilson. Then, on a whim, these two friends began emailing each other, in mp3 form, fragments of their songs: half written melodies, chord progressions, drum beats, and so forth. Slowly and surely—as the sonic layers were piled atop one other—the fragments began to take shape and look, each day, less and less like isolated bits of music and more and more like finished songs. Harmonies were added to melodies, distorted slide guitar solos were overdubbed on top of fuzzed out verses, Humphrey Bogart's voice, dripping with delay, was inserted into the background of folksy funeral ballads, stream of consciousness lyrics were quietly sung in dark and sullen dorm rooms in desperate attempts not to wake the roommate. This went on and on, week after week—nearly ad infinitum it seemed. These songs, with all of their chaotic bedlam and wry humor, are the product of that secluded and protracted process. We, of course, hope you enjoy it.
You must Login to post comments.