The Manor experienced it's fair share of memorable moments over the course of it's often chaotic run: a tree falling during a storm and almost splitting it in half, inappropriate party themes, Food Not Bombs leaving piles of partially decayed matter ("vegetables" at one point, apparently), an unexpectedly bloody rendition of "the death of Christ" one Halloween, and pockets of well attended (and occasionally: borderline unsafe) shows.
An all-ages Dillinger Four matinee (as their show had unfortunately landed at a bar), a confusingly creepy half an hour with Francis Harold and the Holograms, Kevin Greenspon giving it 200% to myself and an unexplainable empty room, and so on.
However, my favorite has always been the 15 minute set thrown down by Portland band The Cysts in the summer of 2009. A project consisting of folks from the noise world (Argumentrix, Frozen Body, etc), I expected them to be the Pacific Northwest's answer to LA's Deep Jew or the Northeast's Dynasty - walls of wrecked guitar noise, drums and strained vocals just barely keeping it inline with the idea of it being a "band" at all, not that I would have minded: playing with Dynasty here in Phoenix was incredible, though tense at a few points: namely when Chris Kites had taken the mic stand off the ground, and swung it 'round his head like a helicopter. I'm prude, and so when playing with Deep Jew at The Smell, I steered clear of the fist fights that the crowd yearned to illicit.
That's really neither here nor there, as The Cysts were ultimately were a unit with much more control, the same amount of energy - but crafted into much more containable bursts and coming across like a spazzed out Born Against of Hail Mary, in overall vibe, but largely in part to James Squeaky's similarly excellent vocals. The power blew at least a couple of times, and I think people weren't sure what to make of their intensity. When a band is self-contained and just barely keeping such explosive force under a thin layer of control, I think people are often taken back. Do you "get into it" or do you keep your distance and just appreciate (I recalled a similar feeling watching the crowd at a Cult Ritual show earlier in the year, though it was much more tense).
A year later, The Cysts came back through, with them: a new 7" perfectly titled "The Cyst". Perhaps a bit toned down from their manic debut, "Public Release", these five songs are menacing and nervous, frantic without being disjointed. The Vermiform references still stand, and with more support than before, and the packaging is beautiful: an intricate hand-assembled screen-printed sleeve and insert, which begs to ask the question: why isn't there a single photo of it (at least that I can find) on the internet, so that I can leech it for this space, here?
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