MySpace a place for friends

I looked over the scene with a glint of curiosity. This guy brought his own rug? Then my eyes moved over the dozen or so gizmos surrounding the rug below the keyboard. Then to the miniature keyboard sitting on a short stool beside it. Guitar in hand, his and the drummer’s consciousnesses catch the same frequency, and the sound begins. Captivating ambient waves crash over the constituents of this tiny, cellar-like venue in Lafayette, and I’m caught. Caught in the almost eerily enchanting musical dialogue that is When the Word Was Sound. She is the heart that sends the steady, but definitely not standard, beats prompting the choir of machinery and its master to act. The improvised musical musings are almost hypnotic, capturing your awareness and taking you on a journey of both ominous depths and surprising heights. I watch as a cautious Converse navigates the maze of buttons and pedals, nodding in approval of a symbol struck and a change in rhythm. There’s a dialectic engagement happening between the two members, and its byproduct is not only enthralling, but in the truest sense of the word, sensational. One rarely has the opportunity to take part in an isolated musical event with sounds specifically produced for that exact time and place, never before rehearsed and never to be repeated. The sounds are telling a story; and though it’s almost certainly received differently by each audience member, it no doubt includes entrancing rising action, a sky-scraping climax, and a reverberating dénouement. When the word was sound, these words seemed to resound: unique, inimitable, innovative, unusual—in the best sense of the term, impressive, absorbing, experimental. Above all of these, though, one word rings louder than the rest in description of this band, and that is experiential.

..-A Fan..

FOR BOOKING CONTACT: whenthewordwassound@gmail.com