It’s taking every fiber of my being to avoid starting this one off with a “TAKAAT Tuesday” joke, but it appears I’m already too late. Spring has full-on sprung, so what better way to spend a warm weekday evening than in the naturally-temperate nave of the Calvary Church in West Philadelphia? It was my first time seeing a show there, though a buddy in attendance mentioned that the last time he was there, he bore witness to the hardcore assault of Total Fury and Paint It Black. West Philadelphia is a magical place!

Appropriately elevated to podium-height were Heavenly Bodies, a trio of friendly locals who I tend to see hanging out at a variety of guitar-centric gigs more than I see assembled as Heavenly Bodies on stage. I knew from prior shows and recordings that they were going to slowly melt a block of psych-rock ice this evening, and that’s precisely what they did. Drummer Shaun Bailey embodied a patient restraint, lightly sprinkling his floor tom as Dustin Burrows looped and layered the delicate meanderings of his guitar. Dustin’s sister Ashley Burrows soon joined the conversation, plucking decisive, resonant notes from her bass, as sedate as the late-night SEPTA schedule. They built up from a sleepy din into a blustery storm, Bailey giving those crash cymbals a pounding as both Burrowses unleashed the full capacity of their instruments. It was a severely incremental process, stretched out so far that any chance of assigning “Point A” and “Point B” to the music became impossible. After the initial deluge, Bailey fell into an upbeat, neo-motorik groove, and the guitarist Burrows stepped up to sing, only for his voice to be effectively inaudible to the audience as well as the rest of his band. He glanced over to the sound-person for a little sonic first-aid, but their head was hunched over, either deeply zoned out from the soothing vibes of Heavenly Bodies or actually asleep. The minor kerfuffle drew a big wide smile out of his sister – even on stage, siblings remain siblings. When a friend casually dismissed their performance as an “anyone can do that” act of amateurish simplicity in the following intermission, I felt myself bristle internally, suddenly aware that I was on Team Heavenly Bodies all along.

Shortly thereafter, TAKAAT unraveled their dual pedal-boards on the floor directly in front of the pulpit, still warm from Heavenly Bodies. With a small container of ear plugs directly in front of their gear, a few attendees sheepishly wandered over and helped themselves in direct refutation of Keiji Haino’s “no one should wear earplugs” dictum (source: The Wire, issue 488). Was it going to be that loud? TAKAAT is essentially Mdou Moctar’s rhythm section, the pared-down duo of Ahmoudou Madassane (guitar) & Mikey Coltun (bass). Drummer Souleymane Ibrahim wasn’t in attendance, though an inconspicuous rhythm-box lurked amidst Coltun’s pedals, ready to fire off a groove.

Coltun opened with some tidal-wave-shaped bass chords, a mighty backdrop for Madassane’s introduction. From the jump, he chose to shred excessively, establishing the dominant mode of unrepentantly glorious guitar. With all the available white wall space, someone should’ve projected an AI-generated remake of that giant battle scene in 300 where the Greeks and Persians are replaced by armies of Jimi Hendrixes and Randy Holdens, if only I had thought to request it sooner. The duo bounced between drum-loop tracks and percussion-free passages of psychedelic Tuareg desert-rock, a style that even NPR has probably told you about by now. They took turns amping up the energy and lulling us back to safety – I think it’s the same general principle behind water-park wave-pool regulations where they have to turn off the wave machine every fifteen minutes. I’m certain that the promoters weren’t properly insured for the occurrence of an entirely dance-oriented setlist.

And speaking of dancing, in an interesting flip of live-music norms, the crowd that gathered beyond the immediate seated area started to dance after a couple of songs, an inverse of the mosh-pit’s typical stage-relative location. The outer-rim dance party continued to grow in strength and number as TAKAAT played on, eventually spilling out directly in front of the band for the final, thrilling number. It was heartwarming and also a little funny, watching this crowd attempt to dance in 3/4 time with any sort of groove; no fewer than two different people pointed out to me the crowd’s likeness to the classic Peanuts dance scene (as a sign of endearment rather than derision, of course). With whatever idiotic “travel ban” is currently in place in this stupid fascist scam country, we shared a collective understanding that there was no straight answer as to when Madassane might be able to return to the US after this tour, or if he’d even feel compelled to do so under the increasingly extenuating circumstances. The preciousness of the moment was not lost on this appreciative crowd, as I weaved past the sizable line to the merch table on my way out.