Reynols | Theater Critic's Choice | Chicago Reader


The Argentinean trio Reynols, which has released more than 30 recordings on almost as many labels worldwide since 1993, is not your ordinary electronic noise band. Led--not just fronted--by Miguel Tomasin, who has Down's syndrome, the trio is capable of both tense ambience and the most exquisite electrocutionary roar; it has performed "psychic energy refractions with toothbrushes" and collaborated with composer Pauline Oliveros. And many tracks on the records I've heard just flat out rock, in a staggering, more-garage-than-anyone-ever sort of way. Tomasin is a mind-blowing singer whose hypnotic groaning exultations sometimes remind me of Gregorian chant, Alan Vega, and Keiji Haino all at once. Though his holy-spirit growling can get a little repetitive from a purely sonic standpoint, quotations from his elaborate cosmology ought to be printed and distributed as a bible for the beginning visionary: recently the Wire quoted him on subjects ranging from a spirit guide called the Mixed Bird to the importance of playing concerts for plants to the shape of the universe to the sensual consciousness of the chihuahua--and his bandmates Robeto Conlazo and Anla Courtis seem to be with him every step of the way, making sure his Jarry-esque worldview gets its most potent and fitting expression in music. Exploitative? I really don't think so--and I expect anyone who shows up wanting a simple freak show will end up scared out of his wits. Late and Seafoam share the bill, bravely. Friday, 9 PM, Deadtech, 3321 W. Fullerton; 773-645-0218. MONICA KENDRICK

Art accompanying story in printed newspaper (not available in this archive): photo/Max Pierro.

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