MONO: A New Type of Concert (Blog #2)

The relationship between audience and musician varies quite a lot between different bands and types of music, but a few simple standards remain, especially during "rock shows." Of these, there is the notion that a performer must keep an audience entertained, excited, and interested. The musician must also usually create and uphold a personality, and make his/herself available to the audience. In light of this, he/she usually makes a funny remark or even a quiet gesture (a smile, a wave). Another way a musician might create a bond between performer and audience might be to dive into the depths of the crowd and come out with the sleeves ripped of his/her shirt. As long as the cheers grow louder and the security guards become more cautious. The Japanese instrumental band MONO rejects all of these prescriptions and refuses to fabricate any sort of relationship with the audience that is not motivated by the band's music.

Last Tuesday, on the 13th of October, I went to see MONO's Los Angeles concert at the El Rey Theatre. This was only the 2nd time I was seeing them live, but their music has inspired and impacted me for the last couple of years. I even used one of their tracks in a film of mine (their managers allow student films to gain the rights to their music). The band mates walk onto stage, wearing very simple, black outfits, and go to their respective instruments, paying little attention to the audience of cheering fans that have filled up the venue. They begin to play their first song, and it goes on for about 15 minutes (most of their songs are quite long). Throughout the course of this song, the female bassist does not even glance up to see the audience, the two other guitarists, who are seated, have their hair completely covering their faces - we see only bodies with instruments. As the music grows louder and louder, (and their songs get quite loud, with a lot of distortion and deafening melodies), several people begin to nod their heads, but most remain still. The music is enchanting, but it is obvious that the performance is not a presentation of charm and personality on behalf of the band mates, but rather an introspective relationship with the music, for both the band and the audience.

The band mates are completely involved with their instruments and the sounds they are creating, paying no attention to the audience. The audience, sensing this disconnect, is not forced to jump up and down or even watch the stage - several audience members are seated on the sides, just listening. One girl is sleeping in a dark corner (slight chance she's a junkie), many others seem to be in a daze. My friend faints at a certain point (perhaps it's the extremely loud distortion) and we sit down. The loud sounds and melodies have turned into lullabies and everyone seems to be taken by the music, but not enthralled by the performance.

In this way, MONO creates a completely new type of concert - one where music and emotion are key, leaving audience participation and audience invigoration out of the realm of performance. The last song finishes and the band mates walk off the stage, waving goodbye. None of them spoke a word for about an hour and a half. There is no encore, though the audience cheers for one. My friend and I go to grab a late dinner, but we both feel more drained than usual after a show. Without having danced, jumped, or screamed, we are exhausted and taken. The trick has worked.