RUSS LIQUID
Abandon composure to the funk.
(you should really listen to this while you read)
Grinning like a maniac, sweat rolling down my nose and into my eyes, these commandments repeated themselves in the background of my mind as I extended my right arm to shake the hand of the man who did this to me.
I measure concerts in sweat, and I have no doubt that Russel Scott, the man behind Russ Liquid, could measure my appreciation for his music in liters as he gripped my hand.
On Saturday, November 25th at approximately 9:30pm I walked into what may have been the best concert of my year. The Star Theater is one of Portland's smaller venues, housing an intimate dancefloor abutting the stage and leather couches and small tables behind that. My history at Star Theater includes Thundercat, Dirtwire, Ghost Note and an amazing evening with The Poetry Brothel.
I had seen Russ Liquid over the summer at What The Festival and was forced from a hammock-bound reprieve to stomp, throw my arms in every direction and scream not-quite-words into the night as a completely unexpected caliber of show unfolded before me. Needless to say I was excited for the night. Needless to say I still wasn't prepared.
Swatkins was in the second half of their set as we arrived, and the atmosphere could best be described as "Robo-Mardi Gras". Vocoders as so fucking cool.
The first time I saw Russ was as a guest trumpet for Gibbz. In the beginning of the set this incredibly jazzed dude runs out from backstage and into the crowd next to me and starts dancing hard. He's making lots of eye contact and is clearly very excited about how excited I am about Gibbz. I'm a little taken aback at this stranger and dance over to my friend to point him out, see if anyone knows him. Jazzed man sees my raised eyebrows, shrugs, dances over to the stage and just gets up there and rips into Feel Good on trumpet while I watch in confusion and then horror at having blown Russ Liquid off.
Two years later and i'm the incredibly jazzed dude. As the New Orleans trio stirred the crowd into a sweaty roil of palpable shared ecstasy, I saw more and more eyebrows raise, jaws drop. The music writhed between pure organ-blasting, trumpet-scorched funk and heavy electronic breaks. Mutating wobbles flowed into drum n' bass, and I mouthed "yes, god yes" with increasing frequency.
It's incredible what the body can do even when the brain is completely short-circuited. My hips gyrated and my fingers sought the sky of their own volition. My sweat-soaked hair slapped the sides of my head in time with the ever-changing tempo. As the end of the set approached - something I instinctively knew and dreaded deep within my being - the shaking, snapping funk dance became a synchronized tide of headbanging. The last song gifted to us smashed down with leviathan weight. If you haven't heard Noisia's remix of Divide and Conquer, go listen to that shit right now. Infusing the monster remix with their own brand of live voodoo, Russ and the boys summarily erased what little rational thought was left in my fevered brain.
Finally, taking one last vocoded-synth solo and igniting the last of their hour-and-forty-minute inferno over the small sea of enslaved audience members, my favorite boys bowed. They discarded hats and instruments and shook hands. Shook my hand. Saw the twinkle of insanity in my eye, and, I think, approved.
Do yourself a favor and listen to Russ’ latest EP World Gone Crazy. Bumps well with: gold chains, sweatbands, fun guys.
♥ Zach
