Zola Jesus’ vocals give me an OBE (outer body experience); she tethered three synths and tribal beats to the body of infinitely mesmerizing songs she performed live at the Black Cat last Friday. I am still asking myself where the lines between dream and reality blurred; something this graceful and profound could only be a fleeting dream in this eyesore city, but the photos I furiously snapped erase all my skepticism.
Nika Roza Danilova, whom you know as Zola Jesus, has been to DC before. I was lucky enough to catch her at the Red Palace, where she performed an intimate set for a packed room. Like last Friday’s show, Zola wore a sheath that doubled as a projection screen, with fractured light projected onto her body. This effect is mesmerizing and adds to her overall ghostly charm. For those seeing her live for the first time, the effect is intense. Sometimes it appears as if she is being electrocuted, and we’re witnessing the very last harrowing sounds she’ll ever utter.
Touring to support her new album, Conatus, which layers violin and triple synths over her hauntingly powerful, operatic vocals, Zola performed a mixed set of old and new gems. She paced back and forth exploring the anxiety and drama of each song, sometimes crumbling from the emotional weight of what she created. “Vessel,”with alienating Joy Division-esqe drums, is violently passionate and sometimes clenches the same striking emotional intensity that early Björk mirrors, “and it surrounds everything.”
I am not fond of breaking into tears at a live show, and she had me coming close a dozen or so times. I think a live violinist might be the only possible thing missing from her enthralling performance, able to launch her gothic Diamonda Galas-like wailings into the stratosphere.
Ryan Friedrich is Xanopticon, and he is from Pittsburgh, where all things good come and go. When I walked into the Black Cat, I immediately snarled to Al Bud that I felt like I was walking into a Capital Ballroom, aka industrial night circa 1997. A few more songs, and I was digging a very Skinny Puppy vibe so I ran to the front to get an idea of what the hell was happening. As soon as I did, the set took a sped up turn and became a straight-on glitch assault that could have knocked me back where I came from, had I not had the stage to hold onto.
Friedrich’s head gets all Jacob’s ladder, and I started to get dizzy. I was at the same time repulsed and mesmerized. By repulsed I don’t mean disgusted, but entirely overwhelmed, like I was having a panic attack, and sickened by my addiction to it. Could this be the musical equivalent of a pure meth high at the Breaking Bad level?
Bringing back the OBE metaphor I opened with, there is something transformational about seeing Zola live. You might feel displaced, removed, or you will feel enlightened and enchanted. Regardless, it is an overwhelming feeling, one that I chose to drown in multiple Greyhounds in order to anchor myself, to not wind up crumpled on stage next to her.
