Captured live to tape at Ottawa’s now-defunct Clocktower Brew Pub in 2011, this document of The Band Whose Name Is A Symbol (TBWNIS) is a glorious transmission from the heart of Canadian psychedelia.
Recorded straight to a Sony Walkman Pro using two PZM mics, this set features a nine-headed version of TBWNIS in full psychic freakout mode.
Seventeen years into their sonic pilgrimage, TBWNIS is more collective than a band. Members come and go, always on good terms, often returning. Instruments range from oud to lap steel to violin to “whatever’s in the trunk.” Everyone involved is a certifiable vinyl nut, the kind of lifer who’ll argue Beefheart bootlegs at dawn.
Musically, they launch expeditions. Freeform psych, mutant jazz, ’60s garage sludge, ’70s biker rock. If it’s loud, raw, or mind-altering, it’s in the mix. There’s no frontman. There’s no plan. Just feedback, pulse, and propulsion.
And that name? It’s not a Prince thing. It’s a prank. The symbol was meant to confound, to derail lazy radio DJs and bio writers. Of course, people started calling them “The Band Whose Name Is A Symbol,” so here we are.
This live set isn’t clean or polite. It’s beer-soaked telepathy in real time, psychedelia with grease under its nails. If you’re looking for polished, look elsewhere. If you want to hear a band levitate off the floor, strap in.
Sides A and B stretch out to nearly twenty minutes apiece, unraveling into sprawling instrumental mind-fuckers. The jams mutate and shift through unexpected corridors without regard for structure or the audience’s safety.
It’s the kind of unfiltered free-form rock you only find lurking in the dim corners of the underground. And that’s exactly why we love it.
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