This past weekend the Williamsburg, Brooklyn restaurant and performance space Monkey Town played host to a truly special evening of music. Hammock, the acclaimed ambient rock duo from Tennessee, were in town to do a special performance of their latest release, the transcendent Maybe They Will Sing For Us Tomorrow, alongside a rare live set from 12k Records’ owner Taylor Deupree.
For those who don’t know, Monkey Town’s performance and dining space is an immersive multi-media environment. Boasting four massive viewing screens, full 6.1 surround sound and absurdly comfortable seating around its perimeter, it may very well be the ideal setting for such a concert as this.
Though at times plagued by the sound of clattering cutlery and the odd snippet of loud conversation (Monkey Town is, after all, a dinner club), his set was warmly received and set a hushed tone for the evening.
Deupree kicked things off on a low-key note. Hunched behind his glowing Macbook, he crafted a lush bed of ambient tones woven from looped acoustic guitar and samples culled from some of his more recent releases, all set to a slideshow of blurred stills from his Sea Last project. Though at times plagued by the sound of clattering cutlery and the odd snippet of loud conversation (Monkey Town is, after all, a dinner club), his set was warmly received and set a hushed tone for the evening.
Hammock, on the other hand, had no such issues vying for attention. Having hauled six amplifiers, nearly a dozen guitars, a cello and a small army of effects pedals up for their performance, they had no trouble at all filling the space with their epic crescendos and mournful tones. Their set held the audience at rapt attention for its duration, recalling a more dynamic incarnation of Stars Of The Lid, with whom Hammock had shared the stage the night before.
The night ended in collaboration, with Deupree joining the band center stage, delivering a wonderful drone of chattering sine tones, frenetic cello melodies and resonant guitar drones that left everyone in the room glued to their seat at the end, unsure of where to take their night next.
Words: Carl Ritger