Plastic people more substantial than most

How do you draw the line between still-good musicians and been-around-too-long musicians? That question sprang to mind during the Plastic People of the Universe show in the 'Sco Wednesday night. The Plastics are definitely old - they look it, they sound it, and hell, they even act it. Why not discard them as a bunch of musicians who could have and should have quit while they were ahead, both of the game and of their years?

Some aging rock stars have always easily been just that: stars in the spotlight, and they have some sort of egotistical invincibility that allows them to just keep on playing while we all sit back and nod our pretentious agreement. Well, ye ladies and gentlemen of Oberlin, ye who may scoff at a bunch of old guys singing in - wait, oh my god, they're not even singing in English?? Well, hell. Because the Plastics never did coast to stardom, never really had stardom, and all they want to do is play their music. And after playing for 31 years, you can bet they're getting pretty darn good.

The opening song, "Mandarin," got the night off to a funky, head-nodding start. Chant-like monotonous vocals made a late entrance over the band's dynamic instrumentation of guitar, viola, sax, keyboards, bass, and drums. The second song was even faster, playing on lots of repetitive melody lines.

The audience showed its appreciation early in the set, which is always welcome support especially when playing as unknowns in unknown territory. The third piece, "Zacpa," showcased some nice keyboard moves against a strong beat. Laid-back, mellow vocals were present briefly at the very beginning and end of the song, while the middle had a pretty sax solo.

The fourth song, "Toxeka," was chaotic and almost anarchistic, but at times held together by heavy melodic phrasing. The vocals were angry and harsh, providing a somewhat drastic but not completely unexpected change from the beginning of the performance. The fifth song, "Okolo okna," was less angry and seemed more chaotic and disordered for the sake or the beauty of it all, and the vocals returned to their original lulling, calming state.

Vratislav Brabenec, on sax and lead vocals, introduced each song in Czech and in English translation. His strongly accented words had an endearing, humbling effect, especially when followed by the strength of the songs themselves. The eighth song, "Nikdo," began with a haunting viola solo but was soon interrupted by a wailing guitar riff and commanding drum beat and quickly converged into the recognizable busy Plastic People trademark sound.

The eleventh song, "Rozvaka neuskodi ans kurcti," had a definite trance-like 2 a.m. chill sound. However, around midnight, when the crowd was mellowing out, a jolt of noisy screams accompanied by angry bursts of musical chord progressions brought everyone to their senses. The last of the 15-song set, "Magicke noci," which employed a gradual increase in tempo speed and impressive performances on both viola and guitar, was an inspiring end to an inspiring night.

The sheer fact that the Plastic People have been around for so long in light of the considerable struggles they have experienced is enough to warrant some respect. They are the favorite band of the president of the Czech Republic, Vaclav Havel, and that has the possible chance of being slightly more interesting than Fleetwood Mac being the favorite band of our own President Clinton. Maybe their music isn't to everyone's liking, but they do their thing well. Sure, they're old enough to be our grandfathers, and yeah, none of them sing in English, but they're still pretty cool. At least that's what the crowd at the 'Sco on Wednesday found out.

Sound Czech: This plastician doesn't blow. (photo by Stephen Menyhart)