Paik it in.

It's far worse than I thought. This band, Paik, who apparently really do hail from Detroit, liken themselves to be quasi-revolutionary. Here's what they say about themselves on their website...no let me check that. Here's what their website says someone has said about them:

a giant, swirling, maelstrom capable of filling most any venue with lush,
textured soundscapes, at volumes that let the listener stand briefly in this
trio's shoes, and feel the truth and honesty from which their music
emanates.

There's so much wrong with this assessment. I will begin with the idea that it's a "giant, swirling, maelstrom." Swirling implies movement. Maybe not interesting movement, but some sort of movement. A maelstrom implies power, an uncontrollable natural force. In Paik's case, we're talking about a guitar, a bass, and drums playing heavy droning chords that sound like nothing so much as slowed down Black Sabbath. And without vocals mind you, which means you have to rely on the music alone to get any sense or feeling. There is no feeling to be found.

But let me continue: "lush" and "textured" are utterly out of place with what I witnessed on Saturday evening at the Black Cat. Both terms imply that the music is deeper than some guitarist masturbating with his instrument while the drummer pounds out a heavy beat and the bass player looks both bored and underused.

"Truth and honesty"? Are you kidding me? The truth, to be honest, is that I could sit in my basement with two friends and get the same results, only it'd be more fun because we'd all be getting drunk at the time. Jesus, I could sit on the toilet and produce something more lush and textured than Paik.