When Nels Cline began by playing bamboo flute instead of guitar, we figured something might be different, and it was. But only in the ways Cline always adapts to his situations, and only in the ways his broad aesthetic always varies. He was just the ingenious Nels Cline -- in an especially fruitful context where he could both exploit his own resources and tap the intuitive relationship with his wife, electronic manipulator Yuka C. Honda. The two call their duo Cup, after a stable vessel that can contain unstable liquids.
Cup leaned more in the direction of songs than most of Cline's non-rock projects, and less in the direction of improvisation. There were melodies, too -- Cline even sang, with remarkable range & intimacy if minimal finesse. The structures barely restrained the abstract nature of the presentation, though: Meditations wafted; Honda's dublike beats supported her spacy synth twiddles and Cline's guitar reverberations; disco rhythms got bodies twitching.
And it was LOUD. Crouched behind her machines, Honda never stopped switching up the dynamics and dragging new skeins of sound through our ears like fluffy barbed wire, her huge electro drum sounds vibrating our guts like Jell-O shots. Amiable and still slender, Cline timed his depth-charge explosions, gauzy arpeggios and crazy runs with the precision that comes with having worked stuff out in the studio -- yes, they have a great new album, "Spinning Creatures," headphones advisable.
A sensual orgy, and almost spiritual, too.
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PHOTOS BY FUZZY BAROQUE.