Recycled garbage

The little foldy things in the ARA proclaimed that Recycled Percussion had revolutionized the rock scene by making so-called “junk rock” a useable term in the highest music circles.

Personally, I don’t know who they’re kidding. Nobody in any circle, independent of topic, would consider what I witnessed Saturday evening as even resembling music.

So, I guess the term fits. “Junk rock” is junk.

Recycled Percussion is made up of four members, three percussionists (each with their own individual talents) and a DJ, responsible for providing some sort of pitch to the ceaseless cacophony of drumming. The group opened the concert by saying that we in the audience should be prepared to be “punched in the face” by the music. I suppose I should have ducked.

For more than an hour, the three drummers basically banged on upside down Rubbermaid buckets of various sizes. Wow. I remember doing that when I was like, oh, seven. But, but, but, these guys had drumsticks, so they must be pros. Yeah right. (And they miked each “drum,” so it was fed through their woofers first before it slammed into the audience...classy.)

Sometimes, the group seemed to just be trying to make as much noise in as small a space as possible, even resorting to using a jackhammer. I’m betting my ears aged at least four years in just an hour. The concert was more painful than the F-16 kicking in full afterburner 100 yards from my face at the Terre Haute Air Fair a couple of weekends ago. And the F-16 was way cooler.

Recycled Percussion’s “songs” consisted of the same beat (think, the beat that everybody, and I mean everybody, beats out on their desk at one point in their life) with each band member interspersing some slight variation...barely perceptible to an ear untrained in rudiments. Oh oh! Did you hear that song?! Wow! That time, the DJ went “dum dum wiky-wah” instead of “dum dum diddly-dum!” Seriously, the “songs” were separated by differences that small. In fact, when one of the “musicians” asked the audience if they wanted to hear another song, I actually thought to myself, “You mean they’ve been playing songs?”

However, there were bright spots in the concert. Occasionally, Recycled Percussion gave our ears a break and let each of the individual band members show off their individual talents. These segments, although short, were the best part of the night...and they were just OK. I seriously considered walking out.

Fact is, Recycled Percussion doesn’t bring anything new to the table. They are not a rock group, because they have no music. They are not a noteworthy percussion ensemble because they have no originality. They’re not entertaining because basically they just randomly hit stuff with sticks and their show is too damn loud - painfully loud. And really, they’re not the drumming gods that they proclaim themselves to be.

Fact is, the “music” they played was nothing special; I’ve heard far better, more accurate, and far more precise drumming from high school drumlines. Not only are those band kids better than the so-called “best in the world” drummers of Recycled Percussion, but they’re also hauling it across a football field and playing music.

At the end of the concert, the band paid homage to some of the greatest rockers of all time (bands like Metallica and Green Day). However, their homage was more like an epitaph. Between their incoherent banging and the over-amped originals, it was the perfect recipe for an instant headache. I seriously wondered half-way through the montage if they were legitimately trying to ruin the classics that they were smashing into tiny bits.

Disappointment doesn’t even begin to describe my dissatisfaction with “Recycled Percussion.” Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to stop the bleeding from my ears.