Same Waves, Whitney Johnson & Lia Kohl Live Show Review: 2/5, Evanston SPACE
Same Waves (from left to right: Lindsay Anderson, Jim Gifford, Gros Pokossi, Wes Reno)
BY JORDAN MAINZER
Given that you can find almost anything online these days, it's refreshing to go to a show where you have no idea what sounds will emanate from the stage. Such is often the case with improvisational jazz or experimental music, but rarely with singer-songwriter material. Wednesday night at SPACE, both Same Waves (the project of L'Altra vocalist and keyboardist Lindsay Anderson) and longtime collaborators Whitney Johnson and Lia Kohl presented unreleased pieces, and in the case of Same Waves, a formally unannounced collection. How each act chose to go about with their showcase was different yet equally rewarding.
The last we heard of Same Waves was 2020's Designations: Dunes, a release billed to Same Waves + Hibernis. (Both were at one point described as Anderson's project with Hefty Records founder and soundscape artist John Hughes; I'm not sure whether Hughes is involved anymore with Same Waves.) So when Anderson entered with a totally different band--guitarist Wes Reno, fretless bassist Gros Pokossi, and drummer Jim Gifford--and placed a selection of books at the forefront, I knew we were in for something new. As it turns out, those books, which included works by British surrealist painter and novelist Leonora Carrington, as well as by Lewis Carroll--contextualize the latest from Same Waves, a three-part love story rock opera.
Anderson
Before the band played a note, Anderson took the time to tell the story of the work and why she wrote it. The plot itself is simple enough: an "old, disillusioned" Alice goes back to Wonderland, falls in love with a Prince Charming-type character who turns into a wolf, and Alice escapes. The inspiration behind the story gave it extra weight. Anderson admitted to the crowd last night that she's "never not written a love song," something she used to think of as a shortcoming but now embraces. After all, isn't the phenomenon of love and why we seek it out the greatest existential question? Anderson was inspired by Carrington's life, starting with Carrington first witnessing the paintings of German surrealist Max Ernst and declaring that she was in love with him, having never even met Ernst. Of course, Carrington eventually did meet Ernst in London, Ernst separated from his wife, and Carrington and Ernst began a love affair and artistic collaboration. After Ernst was arrested twice--first by the French for being an illegal alien, then by the Gestapo for his degenerate art--he fled to the United States with the help of Peggy Guggenheim, who he would marry and remain married to for a few years. A heartbroken, devastated, and anxious Carrington was admitted into an asylum and treated with shock therapy and barbiturates. She was released from the asylum to be sent to a sanitorium in South Africa and managed to escape while on her journey, in Portugal. With the help of Mexican poet and journalist Renato Leduc and a convenience marriage to him, Carrington ended up in Mexico, where she would have a hugely fruitful and influential career up until her death in 2011, at the age of 94.
It's easy to see why anyone with a penchant for storytelling would be inspired by Carrington's life. Anderson, specifically, though, crafted a tale around universal artistic themes: the power and seduction of love, finding and exploring a muse, taking stock of and cultivating your own agency. The songs themselves were certainly fervent, and their instrumental arrangements appropriately expansive and epic. Reno's licks were the emotive heartbeat, bluesy and distorted. Pokossi's bass was the wiry, slinky backbone, keeping it all together. Gifford's drums crashed to dramatic flair. Of course, theater was sometimes the point; when performing "The Wolf", Anderson donned a fur vest. At the center were her vocals, themselves an instrument, traveling alongside the band whether she was cooing or wailing. During a solo encore, on the piano, Anderson performed a faithful cover of the Tori Amos classic "Winter". It was a fitting choice: Amos's narrator, like Carrington, like Anderson's Alice, mourns the betrayal of love and an absence of imagination. Finding them again within yourself is something worth celebrating.
Lia Kohl & Whitney Johnson
Johnson and Kohl, meanwhile, announced their first album together on the very morning of the show. Their live collaboration started in 2018 and has blossomed into the upcoming For Translucence (Drag City), improvised compositions for Johnson's viola, Kohl's cello, synthesizer, field recordings, and radio and sine waves. If the first single, an excerpt of "73|74", and what I heard last night (purportedly part the composition, part further improvisation) was any indication, their creative partnership continues to combine Johnson's explorations of the relationship between sound, mind, and body with Kohl's examinations of found sound, perception, and memory. The two started out on synth--Johnson, the APR Odyssey, Kohl, the Teenage Engineering OP-1--before picking up their strings. The echo created by Kohl dropping her bow on her strings, letting the bounce reverberate, contrasted Johnson's deliberate strokes, and they carried on sometimes in tandem, sometimes in conflict. Considering that each song on For Translucence consists of two improvisations superimposed over one another, and is named after the respective octaves to which the instruments are tuned, it's appropriate that the mixture occupies a space between shared language and chance. The result, on Wednesday, was rich with layers.












