KIT hails from Oakland, CA–the name stands for “Keep It Together” or perhaps “Kill Interested Traitors,” but you’ll have to ask them if you want to know for sure. Short bursts of action seem to be the group’s M.O.; since their inception, they’ve all but limited themselves to appearances on split vinyl singles with bands like Deerhoof, Wives, and Mirror/Dash, Thurston Moore and Kim Gordon’s side project. Active mainly on the West Coast, theirs is an under-the-radar sound: a blend of no-wave guitar windmillery, chirping female vocals, and storming rhythms, as much a product of the Bay Area’s nascent art/rock/noise scene as it is the enlightened politics and do-it-yourself charm of operations like Kill Rock Stars and K Records. Moreover, KIT has survived two generations of said SF bands, from an early ’00s coterie of acts like Numbers and the Coachwhips to current thrillers like Sic Alps.
KIT’s two offerings on their Fuzz page acutely telegraph the group’s condition. “Tethered Wing” trades broken guitar strings for a panoply of small, cute electronic effects, as vocalist Kristy G shouts missives to the animal in question: “Get away!/Fly away!” The track itself revels in the struggle of this trapped beast via high-velocity drumming and restless energy, crumpling itself into a paper bag and throwing itself away by the time its brief runtime clocks out. “Star Sign” delivers the melody as promised, vacillating between single-note needlings and stuttering beds of thumping percussion for the vocals to ascend. Again, it’s over before you know it (KIT’s reputation as a live act is also one for brevity, understanding the audience’s inability to process such signals for longer than 10 to 15 minutes at a stretch), but still you come back for more.
KIT’s next performance takes place at a “mixtape exchange party” on May 3rd in San Francisco at ArtSF, 110 Capp St. Get your tape decks rolling once again, slap 90 minutes of music together and bring it on down.
About this no wave trio–and Kim Gordon favorite–the NME once opined, “It isn’t rock anymore.” That’s not quite true. Formed in New York in 1978, Ut were as much a rock band as LiLiPUT or the Slits, and provided a bridge between their unhinged noise and the more controlled chaos of Bikini Kill and Sleater-Kinney–and have also been compared to Live Skull, Big Black, and Pussy Galore. Maybe it wasn’t rock in the traditional sense, but the threesome worked with the usual tools of the trade. They may have been coloring outside the lines…but the lines were still there. While Jacqui Ham pounded away on the bass and Nina Canal (and guest drummer Charlie D.) propelled the mêlée forward, Sally Young pulled sonic splinters from her guitar (though the three were known to switch instruments). Vocals were mostly divided between Ham and Young: the latter sings in a sweet, if agitated voice (sounding a little like Babes in Toyland’s Kat Bjelland), while the former proffers a more forthright style (somewhat reminiscent of Patti Smith or Chrissie Hynde). Engineered by Steve Albini, 1989’s Griller follows Conviction and In Gut’s House. It’s a fine effort, though slightly less effective than their 1988 predecessor (also reissued by Blast First/Mute), as Albini buries the vocals to the extent that you can barely hear the lyrics (his usual method at the time). At that point, Ut had been based in London for eight years, had become favorites of John Peel, and had toured with the Fall, the Birthday Party, and the Raincoats–though they never achieved even their modest degree of fame. It’s tough to be ahead of the times–even if it’s just by a few years.