"Bionic Finger" Anti-Matters, October '98, by Steve Espinola
A roughly tuned guitar spits out long and short chords, like Morse code sent in slow motion. Nan intones, "Oh, yeah, break it down and shake yer buuhhht! Oh yeah." The snare comes in with a strangely delayed funky beat--is it going to release tension on the one? the two? the 3? No, the 4 & 1/2, the last possible moment. Nan sings "I am wrapped up in your, your sweaty sheets." The song sounds like a midnight argument about what belongs to who and who belongs to what, the words sometimes locked in rhythmically with the bass drum, sometimes breaking free of the band's music into a spoken, high-pitched pissed-off monologue. The song is funny without sacrificing any of its anger. In fact, it's funny because we've all been there--we're all that angry--and it's a relief to hear someone give voice to it, to capture the sound of an argument that perfectly. So everyone is laughing and dancing and having a great time.
Have you noticed how good Bionic Finger's songs are? It's easy to forget, because there are so many cool things going on to distract you from this. For one thing, like Muckafurguson before them, the band features three songwriters who constantly switch off instruments, so Nan Turner, Alina Moscovitz and Christine Murray all play acoustic, electric and bass guitars, sooner or later in the set. They constantly switch off lead vocals. Even the drummer, Pam Weis, sings, beautifully, backing them up like a guardian angel. And then, further distracting, they all look real good up there, which certainly distracts me.
The personalities dominate. The punk cartoon version goes like this: Nan, the sorta Northern European--looking one, comes off as aggressively goofy-yet-angry. When she's mad, she yells. Alina, the darker one, is somehow a bit more intimidating, emotionally cooler, more likely to sneer. Christine, who smokes cigarettes during the set, comes off as a guarded sweetheart, but somehow I could picture her punching someone out if they got on her bad side. And then she'd yell and sneer at the jerk, and get her friends to join in. It's much more complex than that, though, of course. They crack jokes and crack up constantly. Their songs aren't always about anger either, although, punk rock as they are, it's certain in their top 5 emotions (Since it's generally in my top 5, too, I'm into it).
They are different from show to show: One time they'll be sort of manic, silly, and apparently barely functional, the next deeply driven and intense. And I like them both ways. Some people seems to miss "the days when they could barely play their instruments"; I would counter that they've had it together from day one, and they've since developed a wonderful instrumental interplay, while keeping it rough enough to stay exciting and honest. And while I miss them constantly tripping over their guitar cables, their instrument-juggling has developed a choreographed grace, and that's a pretty fair trade.
At their last Sidewalk show I thought, "Man, I would kill to have a band that had this level of psychic communication." It seemed like the songs had spaces for the unplanned and unexpected to happen, and any improvisations or even mistakes were opportunities for a group magic to take over. The band is still not about chops, thank God. They are closer in spirit to the Northwest bands from Olympia and Vancouver--the bands of K Records, Kill Rock Stars, and Mint--where the songs might speed up and slow down, exactly the way your heartbeat does, and breathe a bit, like your lungs do, and slink around, like you might do, walking around. On a cassette tape of a recent live show, removed from their visual charisma and the rock-club volume, I'm really struck by their strange, idiosyncratic groove, played as if the band is savoring each chord, each beat.
OK, right, I was going to talk about their songs! That's why I wrote this! (See? You get distracted...) I noticed the band's songs right away, maybe at their first open mic at Sidewalk (back when they were named Ripe), when they sang a song of Alina's called "Just a Moment". It had a great, melodic bassline, and was about her waiting for her lover to show up... Almost there, almost there, I promise... Or maybe she was waiting for her lover to come, literally, or both. I thought it was great, clever and funny.
And then, one night, under the influence of a couple Margaritas that left me unable to shake my butt, I heard Nan and Christine's bluesy, countrified "Texas", and had my mind turned upside down. The twin melodies meander and twist unexpectedly around a long single sentence, sounding the way a 2-lane highway looks on a map. The lyrics are a travel guide to a Texas which seems strangely underpopulated--you're on your first road trip, and you're at the only motel in Texas, or maybe you're at every motel, or maybe you're at the only one which matters: And if you stop at the Motel 6, be sure to ask for Jim because he's been there, he's been everywhere he has / a red mohawk and army shorts / and is not anything like / the slimy men you'll meet at the pool / who aren't too cool 'cause they make you wanna leave / because they're staring, they're staring, they're staring, at you. The tune swerves randomly from major to minor to major, the words rhyme in strange places, the lines are all uneven lengths, and I am knocked out of New York, fully transported to a motel's front desk where the unlikely Jim has appeared, a miracle in a creepy movie.
Bionic Finger's contrasting yet compatible songwriting styles are a big part of the band's depth and aura of balance. Alina's songs tend to be poppier, melodic, hooky ones, with harmonized choruses like Show me, show me, woncha tell me, tell me, take me oh take me to the bottom of yer heart! Sometimes she sounds like a distant cousin of Deborah Harry, with that stretchy, vampy voice and deadpan delivery; other times she gets folky and sweet. She's got a lot of great, sensual sex-positive songs, like the one about licking melting ice-cream off her lover's mouth. And that great sneer, which adds lemon to any potential sweetness. Her songs "Cheryl" and "Whore" definitely have something much darker going on, but I haven't yet been able to make out the lyrics.
Oh, but wait...Nan wrote "A-S-S-H-O-L-E" which is certainly a melodic, hooky song, at least in the chorus. The categories break down? Then it goes into really disturbing detail in the verses about just why the guy's an asshole, and it gets less pop, more punk. Maybe Nan is the band's personal-as-political songwriter; maybe she's the conversationalist. The chorus comes around; she waits absurdly long before spelling the final "E", and she's suddenly the really funny one. Clearly, I'm being way too simplistic; you can't box the band up.
Christine's songs are probably the most mysterious. I often don't know what they're about on a literal level, but the songs are evocative, as if you're coming in halfway through the story and have to fill in the details. In "So High", for example, she sings (I think) No time to learn how to take me apart / the hidden mysteries of my heart / maybe i forgot it out in Frisco / or maybe it's buried on top of Mt. Kisko. I completely tranced out during her song "10' Shadow" this summer: Didn't know where I was; glad to be there
The band plays their sweeter, happier songs as sneers, and their horror songs as deeply-felt comedies; again and again, you find yourself in several places at once. The songs all come together and get layered up with strangely-intervalled harmonies, lyric interjections from other band members, and then those groovy drums hit and the magic happens. Break it down and shake yer butt! Oh yeah!