Levitation last Friday absolutely swept us away with a sensational line-up of powerful punk, post-punk, and riveting riot grrrl bands. The main stage featured some fantastic artists, such as our sword-wielding home-town heroes, Die Spitz, and the legendary trail-blazers of beloved feminist anthems, Bikini Kill, but I found myself particularly drawn to a certain dynamic duo on the secondary stage—Sweeping Promises.
I first heard Sweeping Promises music while perusing rateyourmusic.com last November. I was digging around in the Art Punk genre—I had been on a whole Art Punk kick, set off by dry winter air and the Canadian unreality, Ought—and I encountered their first single “Pain Without a Touch.” I was immediately struck by the power of Lira Mondal’s voice, which rings crisp as lightning paired with her thundering rhythm on the bass. I’m not personally aware of all too many female vocalists in the post-punk and art-punk spheres—barring, maybe, Siouxsie and The Banshees, but they’re more goth anyways—so this was such a welcome switchup.
I’ve kept up with their music since then, and was delighted by their latest release in August, You Say I Romanticize. This whole album just rocks; and its lyricism is so powerful. The opening track “Shooting Shadows” showcases a new, growling side of Mondal’s voice that fully commands your attention and never fails to raise goosebumps. I can’t help but relate the post-punk scene to the modern and post-modern movement in the world of literature, and Sweeping Promises exemplifies the estranged, distanced thematic throughline in both artistic spheres so beautifully. Lines like, “...a photo of a photo of the floor.”, remind me so clearly of Hemmingway’s narrator in The Sun Also Rises, glancing back at his companions, “through the two thicknesses of glass” at a Parisian cafe. This level of twice removal interests me; the indirect ‘copy of a copy of a’ nature feels deeply poignant to our current world. Moreover, Sweeping Promises refuses to look away from the utter strangeness and near-apocalyptic state of current American life in doom-filled dirges like “Abduction on Camera”, which I deeply admire.
Caufield Schnug rockin' out, shot by Dina Zeid
Listening to their studio albums is one thing, but hearing Sweeping Promises live was a whole different animal. Removed from the mediation of the recorded process, their raw sound was completely transfixing—especially when paired with such wonderful visual effects; there were acid-dipped hummingbirds and cyan-yellow-magenta sprawls, all excellently set spinning with the music. Caufield Schnug’s performance on the guitar was a joy to watch, and you could tell from his mannerisms and body language that he was truly having a wonderful time playing. They even played “Pain Without a Touch”, which was so entirely delightful that I nearly lost my mind. Unfortunately, Levitation has a lot of moving parts, and this young journalist had to bounce on over to see The Garden mid-set. Luckily, one of our dear photographers caught the rest of this spectacular performance. Here’s DJ Mother Superior's take on the whole Levitation adventure:
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Levitation was a festival of the elements. From her unrelenting and cruel sun to her sudden tears falling upon the crowds from the sky, I was palpably touched by the wildness of her wilderness. On Friday night, Sweeping Promises was the wind. When night fell on the Far Out Lounge, Lira Mondal’s voice was soft and strong in the breeze.
While I typically revel in angst and hunger for a way out (the title of their new album) I was completely at peace basking in the soundscape of the three piece band. Their lyricism is what has always drawn me to them, ever since first hearing “Pain Without a Touch” a few years ago, I agreed that I too “need a new invention to ease off the tension.” Sweeping Promises writes about the pessimism or doubt that anybody who has thought something to death too many times is all too familiar with, and has decided that the only logical conclusion is disaster or pain. The poignance of their lyrics is a gift wrapped in melodies that you can't help but dance to, a spoonful of sugar to help the medicine go down. And songs like “Blue” or “Cross Me Out” are medicine, they are riddled with grief and simultaneously groove. I see Hunger for a Way Out as a trojan horse, a spectacular and soaring wall of sound that sneaks up on you to remind you of everything you've lost and had been trying to forget about, which in a way is the most gratifying form of delivery. A sadness in a veil of ecstasy.
The wind animating Mondal’s hair as she played seemed to be the most precise visualization of their sound. Surrounded by the controlled faux greenery adorning the stage, the untamedness of the strands resembled how hair stands up post-electric shock. The set was an electric shock that I never wanted to end, that I wanted to keep on buzzing under my skin. The same buzz that Sonic Youth or the B-52s leave you with. Their sound has an economy of means, threadbare but potent, with Mondal’s vocals like the air around an arrow on its way into your chest. Sweeping Promises was one of the sets I was most looking forward to seeing and they did not disappoint. Their set felt too short, often how things you never want to end will feel. The performance of anything off of their new record You Say I Romanticize was such a delight and of course Pain without a Touch brought the house down without a touch.
(Cover photo by Mary Grace Bacsik)