Well over a decade ago, three of rock’s finest musicians banded together to form an instrumental tour de force called The Aristocrats. Far beyond what a typical “power trio” would usually be capable of, these three amigos color way outside the lines of socially-acceptable song structure. And perhaps outside the lines of socially-acceptable good taste, too. It is, after all, built right into their name, which is taken from an ever-evolving raunchy comedy route. Their Zappa-inspired sense of humor permeates the room as much as the number of notes floating through the air. This style of performance isn’t for everyone but for those who know what they’re getting themselves into, it’s a joyously wild ride.
With plenty of material to choose from out of their five studio albums, The Aristocrats usually focus on playing a good chunk of whatever their latest release is. This holds true for the current “Duck” tour, fronting the album of the same name. They roll out the first half of the album, played sequentially, as the show starts and add a couple more tracks from it later on, too. Considering the first song is called “Hey, Where’s MY Drink Package?”, it seems like a good place to start. As one of the best tracks on the new album, “Drink Package” gives spotlight to every member, with a jazz-inflected punchy bass line from Bryan Beller, a wild middle section to bring drummer Marco Minnemann’s mesmerizing skills to the fore, and a hypnotizing spaced-out finale where guitarist Guthrie Govan and Minnemann trade blazing licks across the sky.
The Bluebird Theater is transformed into a prog disco hall on the next selection, “Aristoclub”, though maybe a little too early in the night for everyone to be ready to fully let their hair down yet. At least until their drink package kicks in. But we are not left to our own devices for long: Beller explains that there is a method to their madness, by way of a somewhat convoluted storyline about a … you guessed it … duck. Duck out in the city. Duck at the disco Aristoclub. Duck getting chased by “Sgt. Rockhopper” (that’s the next song, with plenty of harder rock moments thrown in during the chase scene). Duck sittin’ on a dock of the bay. Or something like that. The “Sittin’” song actually lets things quiet down for a moment, as Govan unleashes occasional ridiculous jazz runs in between more straight-forward funk figures with lots of Wah.
The evening’s curious Duck story is laid out mostly by Beller, with Govan and Minnemann occasionally adding their bits to the tale. But Beller seems the most into it. And the audience, at times. There will be more animals joining in soon, too.
Onto the music. We’ve already hit about 5,000,000 notes by the time we go back an album to “Spanish Eddie”, a great flamenco-ish-inspired song with a funny intro by Govan. Aristocrats songs aren’t heavy on melody or even consistent song structure, but with enough repeat listenings the patterns start to take hold. Mostly though, the audience is held captive by the dizzying speed of bends, runs, hammer-ons & offs, and phrasing that comes out of Govan’s hands.
“Texas Crazypants” is nearly too much of an onslaught to keep absorbing this much music, so Minnemann’s subsequent drum solo is almost a relief. At least there’s only one of them on stage. But then that fact is rendered irrelevant by the realization that Minnemann must have least four arms and they’re all capable of rhythmic independence. It’s quite the mind boggling solo, to say the least.
Mercy is shown by the subsequent clean-tone “Flatlands”, which seems to be a favorite of the band as it’s toured a good amount. That’s more than welcome, as it’s a personal favorite, too, where Govan finds a bit more melody than usual amidst a solid groove from Beller and Minnemann.
Oh, have the farm animals been mentioned yet? Hope you brought your rubber chicken and squeaky toy pig (taken from your dog who’s waiting patiently at home) because there’s going to be audience participation. Actually, the band prefers hearing their audience vocally interpreting the animal sounds, which ensues in one of the wildest call and response crowd moments you might ever hear. The Bluebird has a small balcony way in the back, but they were a mighty bunch, who’s chicken impersonation was able to hold its own against the piggy sounds from the much bigger crowd on the theater floor.
All of these hijinks come towards the latter portion of the show, which includes fan favorites like “Get It Like That” and “Desert Tornado”, not to overlook the cheekily titled, “This Is Not Scrotum” for which Beller gives somewhat of an apologetic explanation.
By the time two hours roll by, there is a collective satisfied exhaustion from the whole theater, though it looks like our intrepid band members could play forever. Minnemann’s smile still hasn’t left his face, Govan seems like he could continue with just another beer, and Beller – the main spokesman for the band – could just be getting warmed up. Although each member of the band has countless other gigs, projects and bands to play with in the coming year once this summer tour is over, there’s little doubt that they’ll reconvene again for album number six at some point, and have a gazillion more notes to unleash on us. We’re just waiting to see what animal will get the spotlight for that journey.
Photos by Alan Cox from Cox Creative Photography
