The Residents @ The Cedar Cultural Center | 3-23-23
Review & Photos by Ben McKone
Fitting for a city known for its art scene, The Residents clearly have a loyal audience in Minneapolis. Lined up on the street in the cold spring air, the diverse crowd, many sporting t-shirts featuring The Residents’ iconic design of a giant eyeball decked out with a tuxedo and top hat, chatted about the groups long history. Nearly all had seen them live in various forms. Filing into the intimate venue, droning electronic music augmented the energetic and mysterious atmosphere. A sign on the backdrop boasted “Holding Up The Underground Since 1972”. This is no exaggeration; throughout their five-plus decades of existence, The Residents have consistently stayed at the cutting edge of music and visuals, pioneering everything from synthesizer use to CD-ROM and music video technology. Cited as an influence by figures ranging from Matt Groening to Mark Mothersbaugh, the mysterious group has long been a legend in underground circles. The audience were clearly devoted followers, and the anticipation was palpable. Precisely at 7:30, four figures took the stage. Dressed in eyeball-patterned suits, fedoras, face masks, and eyeglasses with mounted flashlights, none of The Residents spoke a word before launching into their set.
“Last night I lay dreaming,” the vocalist intoned, beginning with a Hank Williams cover, “and I heard my darling call; And then I went to meet her by the singing waterfall”. Indeed it seemed like the audience was entering into a strange dream-realm, leaving reality well behind as they entered into the world of The Residents.
The mysterious entity behind the microphone is generally assumed, but never officially confirmed, to be Homer Flynn, longtime “spokesman” and self-styled “Captain Doc” of The Residents management team, the Cryptic Corporation. And if Flynn is indeed the man behind the mask, his energy and longevity are simply incredible. For a man who will celebrate his 78th birthday on April 11th, he prowled about the stage with an intensity and zeal that would shame performers half his age. How many near-octogenarians can get a room of people headbanging? Throughout the 90 minute set, Flynn’s vocals ran the gamut from languid, southern-accented spoken word to throat-shredding screams, aided by a full arsenal of electronic modulation.
The backing band were suitably shadowy figures, nimbly making their way through a discography spanning set of genre-defying music that was at turns eerie and dreamlike or aggressive and confrontational. Special mention must go to the nameless drummer, who provided jazz-inflected rhythms and backing vocals with an enthusiasm that was infectious even through his disguise.
Throughout the show, the off-kilter music was aided by a constant collage of psychedelic, surreal, and sometimes quite disturbing visuals. Unfortunately, this also led to the show’s sole technical hiccup when the projector failed, leaving an incongruous “NO HDMI SIGNAL” box on stage. This forced an unfortunate but persistent video tech to crawl up and across the stage, fighting to install a new cable while the band played on. He was rewarded with a round of applause when he restored the video feed. The audience was energetic and enthusiastic throughout, ending the show on their feet as the quartet took their final bow.
For a group with five decades behind them, The Residents have not lost any of their energy, mystique, or challenging sound. Here’s hoping that they make it to Minneapolis again before hanging up the masks for good.
