Can it really be more than 20 years since the world got a taste of Poi Dog Pondering? The group first formed in Hawaii, 1986, and moved to Austin a year or so later. I absolutely loved them back then, first through their EPs on the Texas Motel label, then the live show that sprawled and bounced.
I remember one night at the original Knitting Factory on Houston in New York City. The performance space was on the second floor of a ramshackle building that could hold, I’m guessing, 100 people. The place was jammed beyond capacity and Poi made sure the boundary between stage and audience was obliterated. It wasn’t that difficult, as the stage was probably a foot above the floor, but the shared musical experience between band and listener couldn’t have been closer. By the end of the night, the crowd was the band and vice versa and I feared the floor was going to disappear from the furious vibrations.
Frank Orrall and friends left Austin for Chicago in 1992, before I got here, so my only experience with them was a set at Liberty Lunch (R.I.P) in the mid-1990s. The vibe was still loose, but Poi Dog had moved on to a sound that was more electronic and dance-oriented.
Now comes their appropriately titled seventh disc, 7 (Plate Tectonic Music). It’s not a total reversal, but it does remind me of the ensemble’s early days. There are occasional moments of space and contemplation, blue-eyed soul, and earthy rock grooves, and Orrall’s lyrics remain sensual and mindful. Starting with the exotic guitar riff of “Perfect Music” and ending with the mystical “Space Dust,” they travel through a variety of moods. This is the PDP I first fell in love with and, even though it’s twenty years on, their music takes me to places I never realized existed.
This article appears in April 11 • 2008.