Swans

For roughly 15 years, beginning in 1982 and ending in 1997, Swans were an uncompromising corpus, a church of pernicious experiments, browbeating meditation, and remarkable sonic exploration. With their music rooted in the meditatively brutal post-punk and no-wave of their birth decade, the band fast incorporated more dynamic elements into their music—saxophone and acoustic guitar and dark country tremolo, and proper singing, even—gouging out a profoundly affecting, beautifully morose nook all their own. The band's svengali and only consistent member, Michael Gira, re-emerged last year with My Father Will Guide Me Up a Rope to the Sky, the band's first record in 13 years and an inarguably septic corrective to a decade domestically partnered to auto-tune and analog blip and self-reflexive toe-dip. Reports from their recent shows describe them as religious-level experiences, otherworldly seances of Gira's focused, alarmingly relatable worldview. Get converted. "To think, is a sin." With Sir Richard Bishop. 18+. (Photo by Lino Brunetti)
Tue., Sept. 20, 7:30 p.m., 2011

 
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