The nose knows.
We’ve been overdosing on pop perfume, a heady arrangement of melody and bounce - coddled by brightly colored choruses and whims of the Top Forty. But one flavor never made a stew. Sometimes we Earthlings are in need of a piece of meat caught between the wisdom teeth, just to suck it loose for a savory taste of the unpretty. When tripping the light fantastic gives way to a slew footed stomp – jut the butt and knees bent. Chicken wing and Cheshire grin, a twisted tree through a piano and the quilt- that-never-got-washed; plus a top hat with more than rabbits inside. Everybody was Kung Fu fighting. And ninjas is crazy. A groove of image, shape, space, sound, texture and aroma all made familiar though a rhythm quest of live performance. We've smelled the Funk of Forty Thousand Years, and, of course, the olfactory of “P” and “G”, but I am not talking about that. I am a referring to a remedy for saddity, an anecdote for the overly analytic. A balm for the phases, a lunar liniment, or, more accurately: MOON MEDICIN.
The nose knows.
A quintet of grown ass men, this Boi Band has put its stank on revelers as the headlining act of Art Basel Miami 2011, served pungent aurality at The Kitchen, hit ‘em in the head at UCLA’s Hammer Museum and thrilled at the world famous Apollo Theater. While MOON MEDICIN is undoubtedly performance art - representing thoroughly for Performa ’07 – it is also theatre and testimony and sculpture and painting and fashion and music, but mostly, it’s that eff you en kay. Odoriferous humanity and the dream child of visual artist and keyboardist Sanford Biggers, this combination of players – percussionist Swiss Chris, Martin Luther on lead guitar and lead vocals, the singing turntablist Jahi Sundance, and Mark Hines, the bassist with live video tendencies – convene to concoct a fuel elixir for inter-dimensional travel and perceptual shifts. With a carefully curated selection of covers and original compositions by Biggers, Sundance and Martin, MOON MEDICIN is often joined by an evolving cast of creatives such as the sublime Imani Izuri and Sumie Kaneko. The funk is ephemeral and plastic. I’ll be sniffing around Lincoln Center come 2014 to catch a whiff - smelling salts for pre-consciousness.