Way-Out Six Finger Satellite Is Orbiting In Its Own Universe

Music preview

Six Finger Satellite, alternative rock, tonight at the Crocodile Cafe, 2200 Second Ave. $6. 441-5611. -------------------------------------------------------------------

Six Finger Satellite, in the words of bassist Kurt Niemand, wants to create music "at a higher level" than standard indie-rock bands.

Their music is on a higher level, all right. To the point of being way out there.

Niemand - with singer Jeremiah Ryan, "left guitarist" Peter Phillips, "right guitarist" John MacLean and drummer Richard Pelletier - create an intelligent (and radio-unfriendly) hybrid of conventional musical styles, sheer noise and structural deftness. Their new Sub Pop album, "The Pigeon Is The Most Popular Bird," is a feat of both concept and difficulty guaranteed to flush the room of all but hardcore adventurers.

At first listen, Six Finger Satellite lies squarely within the precedent of Sonic Youth, Band of Susans, Pussy Galore and other seminal purveyors of art-noise. "Neuro-Harmonic Conspiracy" is a terrific exploration of the aura created by an arrangement of repeated notes; "Home For The Holy Day" shoots monotone blasts through a lopsided, chattering guitar figure. "Deadpan" employs a slightly off-kilter rhythm and detuned chords for an enveloping feel, as does "Love (Via Satellite)."

But art-noise does not necessarily mean rock songs overlaid with brain-busting audio tricks. "Laughing Larry" sounds like disco from some subterranean cabaret (reprised in "Save The Last Dance For Larry"), while the subsequent "Funny Like A Clown" incorporates a funk feeling into the turbulence. The swing and harmonica of "Hi-Lo Jerk" reveals that you don't have to be blue to deconstruct the blues. "Solitary Hero" oompahs along, carnival-style, like more extreme Fibonaccis or Sebadoh tracks.

And this doesn't even begin to address the 11 nameless semi-instrumental clips interspersed among the album's 10 songs, which range from bleep-and-burblefests to atmospheric noodlings and creepy, tape-manipulated song fragments. Add that to the extreme panning of the guitars and Ryan's electrified growl and it becomes apparent that Six Finger Satellite aims to create, by force if necessary, the space its name implies.

The difference is premeditated, Niemand said, and "it's kind of becoming frustrating; (innovation) should be taken for granted. You should be making different music, but there's an incredible homogeneity in indie rock. That is something we're working against.

"The whole point is that we don't want to be thought of as being totally different; there should be 20 or 30 other bands out there, but there are very few contemporary bands to which we relate," he added, naming such acts as the Jesus Lizard, Mule and Royal Trux as examples.

As interesting as Six Finger Satellite's music is their origin: Providence, R.I. Ryan and MacLean assembled the original incarnation three years ago, and as Niemand put it, "we seem to have an outsider status there, not necessarily by our choice."

Niemand confirmed that there's not much of a music scene in Providence, but "I would like to see it have one." Nevertheless, "We're alienated from that, but that's probably a good thing."