WAR MILK!
What is War Milk? I don’t know. The term does not exist.
WAR MILK!
Who is War Milk? I also don’t know. They seem to not exist. At least not online.
WAR MILK!
Why is War Milk? One assumes momentum and sheer will.
When I first saw them at Lindberg’s Tavern back in May, I didn’t even realize the show was happening until it was. At first, there was nothing but a very austere drum kit on stage left, facing the center of the stage. Unusual, but not truly shocking. The drummer was simply sitting there, hitting the individual pieces of the kit and letting the sound guy get dialed in. Shortly thereafter, a bass player emerged on stage right. Ball cap pulled down over his eyes, jeans, t-shirt, Fender bass, nothing else. Again, very austere.
Pretty directly the bass and the drums locked in and started a heavy, primitive two-man jam, but certainly this was still sound check? It was loud, it was fun, but even with the absence of any other instruments, I definitely thought more was on the way.
I was half right.
From the back of the stage emerged a large man with long, dark, curly hair, a button-down shirt, and a microphone he brandished like a mace. As he started to sing (and “sing” is a very relative term here), the mic simultaneously became an instrument, a prop, and an extension of himself.
Now, when I say “sing” is relative, I mean that it wasn’t so much melodic as an almost stream of consciousness monologuing that seemed subject entirely to his whims. I couldn’t tell if this was rehearsed or happening in real time. The man seemed possessed. It was either a truly inspired performance, or this person had lost their mind.
Songs bled into songs. At times the man seemed to follow the band, and at times they seemed led by his charge. We all did. The feeling in the room was ecstatic. This was something new, something unique, and something that existed entirely for itself. The audience was almost secondary, just something there to prove it was real. It felt like if the entire place was empty the same thing would have happened.
If a War Milk falls in the woods, and no one is there to hear it, does it still make a sound?
YES.
Now this band has no recordings available, no social media, and I don’t even know if they’ve played 5 shows yet. I had to dig just to find a picture. But that’s the beautiful thing - this makes them almost like a supernatural creature. Something you’re sure was real, but you only have your memory and a fuzzy image on the screen. I want everyone to see War Milk, but until you do, you just have to believe me.
Good news! There’s a chance for sighting the rare beast at The Fungeon this Saturday night. Go see for yourself. We’ll see you next week!
