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Mission of Burma |
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9:30 Club
Washington, DC
02.21.03 |
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review by Mike Powell
History has been kind to Mission of Burma. The band's initial run at music, which lasted between 1979-1983, produced two singles, one EP (Signals, Calls, And Marches), and only one proper album, the superb VS. Despite a limited catalog, a hard life, and a bittersweet breakup, Mission of Burma has gone on to become one of the most revered and influential bands of its time and kind. After almost 20 years of separation, Clint Conley, Roger Miller, and Peter Prescott began playing shows again sporadically in 2002, with tape-loop duties being passed on from Martin Swope to producer and Shellac member Bob Weston. In an independent music climate that has seen more activity and exposure to the arty aggression of bands in the vein of Burma, the group's powerful return to the stage seems all the more welcome, appropriate, and exciting.
As a part of its ongoing "Inexplicable" tour, Burma recently did three shows on the East Coast, including a night at Washington D.C.'s 9:30 Club, an important marker in the band's history. Mission of Burma emerged from the wings to a roar of applause from an audience that spanned several generations and musical backgrounds. Indeed, one of the things that has always made Mission of Burma unique and exciting was the band's ability to cater to both a punk-rock and an art-rock crowd, while also filling the space between. Couple this with the aforementioned renewed interest in Burma and other acts of the same ilk, and the crowd at the 9:30 Club began to make more sense: 15-year-old kids in ripped jeans and t-shirts coexisted with impeccably groomed and stuffy-looking 45-year-old men in turtleneck sweaters and gaunt hipster types—all of a sudden, it didn't seem quite so jarring.
After taking a few songs to properly adjust levels (for about ten minutes, Roger Miller's guitar was an almost inaudible slash of fuzz, and in general, the sound seemed meek), the band picked up considerably. By the searing "That's How I Escaped My Certain Fate" (the fourth song), the members of Burma had hit their stride. The rest of the first set was a gradual yet noticeable ascension, from the haunting march of "Trem Two" to the kinetic, legendary "Academy Fight Song," which triumphantly closed the set. After a 15-minute break, the band came back strong, launching straight into the drilling "Fame And Fortune," followed immediately by the hypnotic, fractured eeriness of "Mica." Although the notion of Burma recording a new album has not yet passed the rumor mill (and the band themselves are clearly just playing the situation by ear), the new material that dotted the evening was notably strong, making the prospect of a reunited Burma in the studio quite appetizing. After closing the second set with the 1-2 punch of "That's When I Reach For My Revolver" and "Learn How," the band returned for a four-song encore, culminating in the claustrophobic meltdown of the Stooges' "1970."
All in all, the show was utterly thrilling. At no point was there ever even a hint of Mission of Burma's reunion being an opportunity to cash in, nor did the band seem even slightly lackluster or disinterested. With intensity and passion, Miller, Conley, and Prescott swept away any sneaking suspicions that they might be passing over the hill.
top of page interview with Clint Conley
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