John Schmersal Toko Yasuda Matt Schulz

Taking the stage with authority and grace, Schmersal, Toko Yasuda and Matt Schulz were the Ego, Superego, and Id of their particular brand of lying-in-the-gutter-staring-at-the-stars ("Litter in the Glitter"?) rock-n-roll -- an anachronous hybrid of musical eras and a balance of polished electronica and fuzzy pop/rock. The ego, Schmersal, jangled around with bravado, glaring imploringly at the audience in search of approval. Superego Yasuda, cool and aloof, danced with controlled movements and sings with delicate finesse. Schulz was pure id, beating the skins with the primal precision of a mod Animal. Primary and bright, Schmersal's day-glo green guitar, Yasuda's cherry red bass (complimenting her deep purple skirt and shoes), and Schulz's red, white and blue faux-formica drums looked like set dressing from A Clockwork Orange. In fact, Schmersal's animated mugging and tendency to give the illusion that he might at any moment devour the microphone lent him an Alex-the-droog-like quality.

So dazzled was I by the band's very presence that I cannot rightly say which two songs opened the set. They may have been brand new, or they may have been "Litter in the Glitter" and "Spanish Boots" from Hocus Pocus. However, the third song signaled the beginning of a string of favorites, both old and new. Completely eschewing obvious standout tracks from their new album (there was no "Shave" and no "Daughter in the House of Fools" in the offing on this Mother's Day), Enon proved that even their less critically acclaimed new material translates beautifully to the stage. The show was equal parts Hocus Pocus and High Society, with one very warmly received Believo! hit thrown in for good measure. "Starcastic"'s dueling vocals snapped me out of my initial haze; Toko's diminutive form took on a powerful, sinewy quality as she bore down in rock-God stance and showed the bass who was master. Then, stepping up to the mic, her porcelain doll face contorted beneath her mop of black hair as she squeezed out her high-pitched share of the melody, proving that sometimes large doses of "bad ass" come in compact packages. By that song's end, the band had worked up an alluring sheen of sweat; as photogenic as they are, they could be the spokespeople for a new indie rock gym in Williamsburg. Schmersal put down the guitar and switched to the keys for the impossibly infectious "Natural Disasters", which, as anyone who has discovered its complexity in attempting to learn it by ear can attest, should not be as catchy as it is. Sequencers abounded, at least one for each band member, spitting showers of pre-recorded audio sparkles to fill any potential gaps created by the live performance.

Next, the band slowed things down with "Candy", a ballad lodged somewhere between Dion and Iggy Pop. "Old Dominion" and "Native Numb" showcased not only Schulz's impressive talent but also his facial acrobatics, as fascinating and endearing as Keith Moon's: pained grimaces were interspersed with expressions of utter astonishment at just how loud a cymbal could crash. Schulz's beats are never mere beats, but rather creative bridges carrying melodies across electronic spaces and through murky sonic quagmires, occasionally stealing the spotlight by generating percussive landscapes all their own.

For "Carbonation", Schmersal put down the guitar, ripped the mic off the stand and followed his own advice of "Get freaky for your mother." Again unhindered by instruments on "Rubber Car", where he had only to hit some buttons every so often in order to release the liquid-synth waves upon which his blue-eyed soul falsetto surfed, he pointed his considerable charismatic powers directly at the audience, prompting "Who's got the..." and holding the mike out for the response of "Rubber Car!" The first time I saw Enon, similar antics made Schmersal the most memorable member. This time around, however, Yasuda showed that she has become a real showperson, particularly on such numbers as the brutally sexy "Disposable Parts", in which, freed of her bass, she radiated confidence and attitude in the compulsive shaking of her hips and the oh-so-coquettish gleam in her eye.

Schmersal took up the bass and Yasuda periodically reached over to manipulate what looked like a Casio keyboard on "Murder Sounds". This song is a rarity: the two sing together in harmony rather than playing vocal tag, with mesmerizing results.

Enon finished their set with Yasuda in the spotlight on "In This City" and the aforementioned showstopper, "Disposable Parts", after which she graciously and adorably thanked Dayton, Ohio several times and left the stage. Naturally, the audience wasn't having that. The too-brief encore consisted of "Utz" and "The Power of Yawning", and gave me an entirely new appreciation of those Hocus Pocus sleepers. The show, a mere fifteen songs, seemed too short -- or maybe Daytonites are just spoiled by Guided by Voices' three-hour homecoming concerts.

Even a casual listen to any Enon album is likely to inspire the comment, "They must be great live," as their music is almost visible: it sounds like the workings of a Rube Goldberg contraption, with twisted, complicated tubes and machinery whirring and grinding through convoluted motions to achieve a simple, almost mundane end. It is so jazzily spastic as to approach cartoonishness, at once ahead of its time and outdated, like Raymond Scott's post-Looney Tunes experiments. How could Enon not be great live?

Article and photos by Sarah Silver.