NOMO - Chicago, IL

NOMO was at The Hideout in Chicago this past Sunday (June 15, 2008) to celebrate their Ghost Rock record release and to play a show full of synthesizer music blended with Caribbean street rhythm that makes you wish you listened to more experimental instrumental music. The band out of Michigan mixes standard jazz influences, Afro-beat rhythms and island horns. With nine people in a band, including multiple occasional guest members, it would be easy for NOMO to sound unpolished and more like a jam band than the tight, instrumental group that they are. Produced by Warn Defever, if their recorded sound is anything like their live glory I need to grab a copy of Ghost Rock.

The set started out with "Brainwave" as they played their entire new album from start to finish. The song follows the twanging of a random novation bass station beat and eases you into the horns of "My Dear." Although the set started out on shaky ground with electrical and levels issues (what can be expected when nine people are packed on a miniscule stage, trying to do their thing). "My Dear" erupted with a blast of trumpets, the bleat of an alto saxophone and the clanging of the star of the show, the synthesizer, the audience was transplanted into an epic cacophony reminiscent of a Haitian street fair more than a rock band.

Song tried to blend into song as NOMO was attempting to find its rhythm with the new set. As time passed and Elliot Bergman (synthesizer) with his undeniable stage presence and the blare of the horns gave way to showcase percussion, additional members of NOMO joined the already crowded stage to fill out the sound. The most genius aspect of this band as a whole is the intensity with which they play their music and the members' mastery of multiple instruments. Each member of the band

I generally don't enjoy all instrumental music (with the exception of Chicago-based band, Algernon) but I found myself bouncing and swaying to the island beats. I even was tempted to keep up with the whirling dervish girl in the front. You know the one with the blonde braid and flowing shirt who seems to be a permanent fixture at shows such as these. But alas, I had on my work hat and couldn't flail about in front of the stage. At this summer's Pitchfork festival, I'll be happy to shed my reviewing gear and be the girl in the crowd wildly gyrating to the songs I've been listening to on repeat since Sunday.