Chaos in Tejas Live (Night No. 2): Central Presbyterian Church

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Peek-a-boo: Liz Harris, aka Grouper, at the Central Presbyterian Church, 5.31.13 (by Shelley Hiam)

If punk’s a religion, then at least a portion of its championing music festival was held at a widely recognized house of God. A droned-out local violinist with long hair and two young women who write murky lullabies eschewed the DIY confines of Red River and East Sixth for the cozy ambiance of the Central Presbyterian Church on Eighth Street.

Enter into this gritty Chaos San Franciscan Jessica Pratt, Grouper (Portlander Liz Harris), and Silent Land Time Machine, the one-man orchestra looper who might have only played one long song as his entire show. Between-set music on the P.A. featured Van Morrison’s Astral Weeks and ensuing Moondance, both standing out during a weekend of crust punk and death metal. DIY means do it your way.

CPC’s talent pool proved worthy. Two blocks west of Infernöh and Framtid’s primal din, Pratt and Harris cooed longingly into their acoustic guitars while standing under a big cross in dim lighting. One show attendee asked politely that the former play “Titles Under Pressure,” the penultimate song from her debut LP. Others just clapped for a brief moment at the end of each tune.

One punk with a rude set of mutton chops defied logic and let out a guttural “Yeahhhhuhhh” at precisely the moment that Pratt walked offstage. Everybody around him turned to see such boldness. This is a church, man! Sound guy’s queued up “And It Stoned Me,” you know?

Flanked by a svelte gentleman in a charcoal shirt and salt-and-pepper hair, Pacific Northwest phenomenon Liz Harris walked out onstage as Grouper and sat right down in her chair behind a big black preamp. From the right-side pews, you couldn’t have seen her even if the lights were on.

She, too, brought a droney, atmospheric style that built and diminished at a glacial pace, with tracks from this year’s eery The Man Who Died in His Boat coming and going at the speed in which it would take someone to die alone in a dingy. It was beautiful and delicate, but it dulled the senses.

After two-and-a-half hours, I tucked my notepad into my pocket and split down the road towards Mohawk. Osaka’s Framtid hit the stage 30 minutes later. Those guys, headlining the 1100 E. Fifth Warehouse tonight, are a show you simply must see.