In a town where the band-to-fan ratio is roughly two to one, Columbus has always been a little shy when it comes to pushing the envelope. Loud rawk and rootsy stuff are easy to come by, but those who pick up the torch Frank Zappa laid down are a pretty rare breed. Even rarer is a show with a concept more far out than a band onstage and beer in the back.

Leave it to MadLab. The little art space that could is usually pretty light on the live music front, leaving it to the clubs a mile or so north to pick up the slack. But when they do have bands perform, they go all out.

This was the case last Saturday, which saw the Rancid Yak Butter Tea Party and Wigglepussy, Indiana sharing the stage and splitting the set. Two bands, no waiting.

The premise appeared to be something of a call-and-response format, where one band was forced to respond to what the other one had just played.

Good idea or logistical train wreck, both bands seemed to come prepared. And the din of them tuning simultaneously vaguely approximated The Godfather's theme, heightening the tension in the air.

Wigglepussy evidently won the coin toss, opening the shenanigans with a slinky, art-prog rock opener that was equal parts Prince and King Crimson, with a touch of Nick Cave drama thrown in. The onstage demeanor of the Rancid Yak boys ranged from bassist Scott Thompson rocking back and forth and chomping at the bit to jump in, to vocalist Tyler Derryberry, who crouched down and stared coolly, sizing up the competition.

The moment Wigglepussy stopped, the Yaks jumped in with a tightly focused slab of death metal intercut with mellow, keyboard-driven interludes along the lines of a Smucker's commercial penned by Sepultura. The tune's extremes gradually melded into one focused sound, and shed much of its cartoonish element.

And so went the early part of the experiment: Wigglepussy diving in with pastoral space rock and menacing art funk, and Rancid Yak responding with Brainiac-Deicide funeral dirges. Both bands were obviously focusing on their strengths, and maybe relying on them too much.

As the evening progressed, both acts seemed to find the fun in the proceedings. They began feeding off each other's bag of tricks, which led to blurrier and blurrier lines between what each one was doing. That, and a bombastic two-way drum solo that threatened to bring the Lab down to its foundation.

Instead of degenerating into a pissing contest as promised, the evening evolved into a virtual new music onslaught.

It certainly wouldn't have been everyone's cup of tea. But for the sweaty packed house at MadLab, it reaffirmed how fun it can be to watch a bunch guys with guitars and other stuff. And how some ideas just have to be tried out.

-Rick Allen
The Other Paper, Vol. 13, No. 36
June 26 - July 2, 2003