Even with the aid of a few well-timed hallucinogens, it’s usually a tall order to close your eyes at a live show and find yourself in a completely different time and place—but somehow, Cambodian-born singer Chhom Nimol manages to induce that state of time travel. In her case, the destination is mid-1960s Phnom Penh at the height of the Khmer pop craze (touched off by such icons as Sinn Sisamouth and Ros Sereysothea), and she conjures it in deceptively easy fashion with a little well-shaped reverb on her vocal mic—oh yeah, and five Cali-based musicians who are all arch purveyors of the style.
Dengue Fever brought their distinctive psych-rock surf sound to New York’s Mercury Lounge last night, and as it turned out, the small venue was a perfect outlet for the band’s raw energy. From the back of the room, Nimol appeared barely more than five feet tall standing on a phone book, but when she belted out wistfully haunting pop rockers like “Tiger Phone Card” (from the band’s latest album Venus On Earth, out now on the L.A. label M80) in her strong soprano, it quickly became clear who was running the show. And although she’s not a technically perfect singer, Nimol throws her heart and soul into it, which makes her an instant hit with just about any crowd. Clad in silver lamé and looking in every respect like a young nightclub diva from a bygone age, she was regaled between songs by the (significantly) male audience with hoots and hollers, and basked in it all with grace and good humor.
Of course, the other half of the equation is the band. Led by guitarist Zac Holtzman, Dengue Fever throws down a blistering mix of acid rock and west coast surf-punk, laced with filigrees of free improv and Southeast Asian melodic scales. Holtzman is an expert at emulating the sound and mood of vintage James Bond surf guitar (it helps to have a Fender Jaguar as your main axe, along with whatever Fender Vibrolux-style amp you can get your hands on), while his brother Ethan holds forth on Farfisa organ with all the mildly detached aplomb of Ray Manzarek in his heyday. The stalwart rhythm section of Senon Williams on bass and Paul Dreux Smith on drums (with guest percussionist Nappy G, formerly of Groove Collective) definitely tested the seemingly fragile sound system at the Merc, but if flubbering woofers and distorting high end aren’t part and parcel of a gig like this, then what is?
If you’ve ever wanted to get an inkling of what it might have been like to stretch out in a speakeasy on Monivong Boulevard back when Vietnam was still just a conflict, then Dengue Fever is for you. If you’re wondering where that music might have headed if all its originators hadn’t been “disappeared” by the Khmer Rouge in the 1970s, then Dengue Fever is also for you. Either way, it’s a giddy and gripping live experience that shouldn’t be missed.
