MetroSpective
Full Metal Throwdown
Motoman event features mechanical blood and guts
by Chip Boehm
kboehm1@mscd.edu
The show was billed as "More robot gore than you can handle," and while the crowd was left wanting more, The Motoman Project didn't leave them disappointed.
The warehouse region just north of downtown continues its renaissance as a creative commons for all artistic inspirations. The Tar Factory at Studio Aiello, located at 35th and Walnut, served as the junkyard battleground for the evening's proceedings.
Photo by Adrian DiUbaldo adiubald@mscd.edu
The Trench Mouth engulfs a paper zombie in flames at the Motoman Project Machine Performance. The event was held at the Tar Factory in Studio Aiello, which is located just north of downtown on 35th and Walnut St. Above: Drummer James Main and singer Jordan Jinenez, members of the band Sever from New Mexico, play for the crowd at the Motoman Machine Performance.
The show began just before dusk with music by Sever. Albuquerque's finest metal hardcore band made their first venture out of New Mexico and impressed with their fortitude. Against a fitting backdrop of horrific props from the events to come, the band looked right at home trying to get the audience to play into their eager hands. Lit on either side by the piercing halogen-bulbed shop lights, dusk fell as the riffs swelled.
The next bout of entertainment consisted of a set of jams in the style of John Zorn's "Naked City." These were set against percussion that was pounded out on a 5-gallon drum, which was chopped down with exposed sharp metal edges, perfect for gnarling fleshy fingers. Guitars, drums and sax (baritone and soprano) interplayed over effects-laden atmospherics, imposing a will of its own upon the audience.
OdAm fEI mUd performed their Samurai combat performance art with skilled execution. The swinging and swaying of swords took center stage while Kabuki-faced musicians set a template of their own with a fusion of disparate styles.
An intermission found a meandering crowd inattentive to the overhead sounds. The background music turned out to be the next musical act, Orwellian Math Project, which had set up in the opposing corner of the arena. A mixed-media duo with technical chops and production values polished to the sheen of perfection and lyrical tastes of 1984 and Big Brother converged with their on-screen counterpoints in a juxtaposition of archaic and modern tendencies.
Photo by Adrian DiUbaldo adiubald@mscd.edu
Zane Caroll, a helping hand for the Motoman Project, sets up the zombie figures, which were only built to be destroyed later in the machine performance that provided a spectacle of robot gore.
came The Motoman Project's first blood-and-gore machine performance. The cement lot was filled with simulated rotting corpses, which were simply cut-out cardboard zombies propped up by neon bulbs. These faux corpses served as the setting for the carnage to come. The props included a Tesla Coil funneling electricity to eerily lit neon bulbs. The lights rested upon a spinning skull, completing the gory ambience.
The spectacle was filled with menacing mechanic creations. Not all of the machines were in working order, but the ones that did work were remarkable. Trench Mouth, a Frankenstein contraption of rusted blades and grisly grinding gears, left the zombie cut-outs sizzling with it's attached flamethrower, while the Liquid Flamethrower spewed molten blue streams of flame. Cardboard zombies were sizzling and the ground was strewn with their smoldering remains.
The last of the machines was the Pulse Jet, which pummeled its victims with furious, chest-thumping shock blasts.
The low-end rumble and thunderous collisions emitting from these machines required the use of earplugs, which were given to every spectator upon entrance. The heightened squeals and snippets of dialogue came through the earplugs to form a unique sonic composition.
The smell of sulfur, diesel gasoline and jet fuel formed noxious fumes of nocturnal deviance. Combined with the aural and visual stimuli, these atmospherics offered a peaceful Zen moment amid the chaos. A single thought formed from the noise and flames: Thank god for earplugs.
