Successfuled; Satisfied; Rocked.

I'll do my best to describe exactly how successfully and satisfactorily Sire and I were rocked on Friday night. It'll be difficult, considering afterwards, we could barely describe the feeling in other words than, "What a concert," or, "S'a good night, Rüd."

Even after songs, our responses were limited to Ahnold-uttered "WHOA!" and "YES!" and "WOW!" I shall do my best to describe with articulation: Casanatra, at times, is like an evil 3-piece Allman Brothers. Nah, that's too out there. It would be best to start at the beginning.

I know what you might be thinking: What an odd way to start the night/post. It's actually perfect. This pic illustrates how many wonderful peeps actually made it out--in fact, there were even more before I took this picture. By this time, we'd lost Dr. Hoo and Brawnce, but their effort is appreciated. There's no way McGoff's could ignore just how many people showed interest in not only live music but good music, good music from outside of Kato, and Casanatra/Helmüt specifically. That's them off in the distance, like a murder of crows boding news of rock.

This is the band at level Helmüt. As they promised the rock-wary McGoff's management, they started of nice and calm. Look, Lance--yes, we're on a first-name basis--Lance is playing a bodhran. For those of you who see any drum and immediately say "bongo" for some God-awful-ignorant reason, a bodhran is a celtic frame drum. What bodhrans say to most people is, "O' sure'n there'll be no rockin' here, lad. We're here for folk and pints." So clever, Helmüt.

These two brave women never saw the rock comin'... Mostly because they had to leave before the storm. What's on Naughtilie's mind, I wonder. Perhaps, "Cocktail Bar."

Dennis' Gibson during the first intermission. This is the perfect distraction for easing more rock into the set: Dennis would return with the Gibson, but Fink would make a sly switcheroo, trading his acoustic in for his electric. Sire said Fink had been battling feedback troubles throughout the first set. I say they were battling their instincts to rock.

Lance's set: deep-sea blue, matte-finished shells as light as cold Harp. Through the first act, Lance played only djembé and bodhran. While they played I kept thinking, "They didn't bring that set to not rock on it. There will be rock. Oh yes, there will be rock."

At the end of the first set, Dennis announced they'll be taking a short break and would return to let Lance rip on the drums. The way he said it was 3 parts sarcasm to 2 parts for-serious-though.

Trading one acoustic for an electric and djembé and bodhran for the set, Helmüt gains Casamüt level and may now attack three times every two rounds.

Second set: Notice that Fink has made the switcheroo. Notice also Fink's stance. Yes, it's difficult to see, but the chair under him is pure formality. An eighth of a cheek is on the edge of that stool. Had someone kicked it from under him, he wouldn't fall. Know why? His rock keeps him afloat.

They kept the first few songs calm, letting the ears of the unaware get used to the sound of Casamüt-trademarked muffle distrotion. Bit by bit. Casamüt is partial to creepy jazz chords--some might say "dissonant," but anything is dissonant compared to the regurgitated powerchord progressions on the radio.

Casamüt tunes to the key of Q. Casamüt chords are a dark forest inside a metropolis: Fangorn in Mineapolis. These chords rang all night, but became grittier, more desperately autistic, as the night progressed and the distortion and volume dials were turned up.

Head-on Casamüt. Lance graduated from sassy brushes to wicker Hotrods to 7A sticks--I'm pretty sure they were 7A: thin enough to not overpower the room but, in the hands of a master, thick enough to rock anyone. I've always been a 7A player--Vic Firth if I had to namedrop. Lance and I are both fans of ghost-note triplets, and I've always found that 7As are prefect for tumbling E-ands.

Casamüt needn't face each other. They play as one. Eye-contact, hand signals--a Jedi craves not these things. Around this time, they played their cover of the Soundgarden tune, "Rusty Cage." Dennis throws a little Cornell into his voice to tie their version to Soundgarden's, but I don't think it was the point for them to recreate the tune as close to the orginial. They surely Casanatraphied the tune. They were asked to cover "Rusty Cage" for a Midwest compilation of bands covering Soundgarden classics. It comes out February 21st. The chaps have a sample of it to tease you.

Intermission Two: The Evolution into Greater Casanatra

I had noticed the massivity of Lance's hi-hats the second he set them up. I didn't get a chance to take a closer look 'til their second break. Before then, I had guessed and expressed to Sire that they must not be real hi-hats but two crash cymbals on a hi-hat stand. Upon closer inspection, I realized those'd be pretty big ol' crash cymbals, for me at least. There were no markings on the plates, only evidence of years of rock. I asked Lance about them later and he told me they were, in fact, two ride cymbals--22-inchers.

If the 22" detail means nothing to you, consult this picture for an example of a 26"-ish ride cymbal. Here's a point of reference: my hi-hats are 12" and my ride is 20". So not only would his hi-hats be big for my taste as a ride cymbal, they'd be fucking huge for hi-hats--and his 26" ride would be huge for my type of ride. What does all this illustrate to you, I hope? A devotion to heavy. Casanatra's guitars and drumheads are detuned for that extra heavy effect; everything about them is exaggerated to achieve heavy. Is that a segue? You're damn right.

Full-blown Casanatra. As audience members dropped like phat beats, the fellows were only warming up. At some point around this time, Sire and I watched a random dude walk up to the entrance, get two feet into the breezeway, hear what was going on, turn right around, and walk right back out. It was a beautiful moment. Casanatra seemed to enjoy that anectdote when we told them later. It's something to be proud of, I think, to be able to attract and turn away the curious all in one night.

Casanatra as viewed from the entrance of McGoff's. The rock, along the few Smithwick's, had begun to take an effect on the stability of my picture-taking. It's skakey mostly because I was excited that they started playing "Pity Party" which is the fourth sample.

There's a limit to how much some people can be rocked. What they do at that limit varies. What is unfortunate is when someone reaches their limit and what they do is law. The owner of McGoff's had been around and gone and back again all night. By 1:15, he'd had enough. He more or less asked the boys to play nice or call it a night. I guess he could have been more of a dick, but it turned out just fine. They finished up with a Fangorn-chord Casanatra Ballad and we got to hang out with them that much longer.

That was one of the nicest things about the night: hanging out after the show. Sire insists on buying merch of them every time he sees them, even though they haven't had a new release for almost a year. Before tonight, Sire had paid for at least four of their first album "Wood and Glass."

His purpose is to give the music to people who might be interested, an endeavor for which Casanatra was appreciative and gracious. Sire gave them a twenty-spot, worth probably four "Wood and Glass" albums. They gave him at least six of them plus a bunch of compilations featuring Casanatra tunes and other Midwest acts.

In turn, Lance took Sire's twenty bucks and bought a round of diamond cutters for everyone who'd lasted the whole night: the three band members, Sire, Corbet, and I. We talked music, music-schooling, Ahnold, Mike Tyson. Lance said the diamond cutter reminded him of the Robitussin he'd OD'd on when he was a year old. That explains his knack for complicated time signatures. And Sire was worried about even requesting a song. Pfft. These guys are real dudes.

It's tough to see, but that's a pick next to the Smithwick's. I found it on the floor under our table. It's possible that it's a Casanatra pick, but it's likely that it came from Open Mic Night on Thursday. Doesn't matter. I could say the pick means all sorts of loaded things, like reminding me how fun it was to gig, how excited I am to gig again some day, how much I hope we made it worth it for Casanatra to play in deserted Kato again. But that'd be cheesy. Mostly, I like the pick because it makes Sire jealous.

Any gigging band would rather have a packed room, but I think they appreciated what we were able to offer them. I told them why I love seeing them play in Kato. It's a completely selfish reason: Every time we've seen them, we were more or less the only ones in the audience. I told them, "It's like a headphones concert."

Be warned: new album out in May. I have grace copies of the old album if anyone is interested.

Mace...out