There’s a funny little joke about math rock and it goes something like this: Guy goes to a concert where a math rock band is playing. He stands there right up front, taking in the band’s mind-numbing propensity for wildly inventive time signatures, frantic fretboard skirmishes, and impeccably calibrated tempo changes. While watching, the guy remains all Dr. Spockish, avoiding any signs of emotion. Once the show is over, a friend approaches and asks the inevitable: “What did you think? Did you like the band?” The guy turns to his friend with a blank expression, looks down at his pocket calculator and types away furiously, then looks back up and replies: “Oh yes, they were quite good.”

Of course, it’s easy to take the piss out of math rock. Or just dismiss it all as soulless musical gobbledygook that offers little to listeners who have no idea what the hell a diminished seventh is. And let’s call a spade a spade here: there’s been many a math rock band accused––not unfairly I might add––of perfecting the fine art of musical masturbation.

It should be pointed out though that the headliner of the evening, Pittsburgh’s Don Cabarello, a band closely associated with the genre, has gone on record more than once as saying, “We are not a math rock band.” Then again, Andrew Eldritch used to say “The Sisters of Mercy are not a goth band.” And we all know how accurate that statement was, right? (As I made my way through the doors of Iota, I secretly wondered whether I had brought a pocket calculator with me…)

But before I could experience the Don Cab live for the first time, I was fortunate enough to catch some of Ponytail’s opening set. Unfortunately, I didn’t see all of it. I arrived at Iota right at 9pm and the band had been playing since a little after 8:30 (who knew shows started *this early* in Northern Virginia?!!)

Though I only caught about three songs, I must say I thoroughly enjoyed what I saw of the Baltimore-based four piece. Ponytail has a gleefully rambunctious sound that shifts wildly from punk primitivism to technical wizardry, all wrapped up within the confines of a catchy tune. One song in particular that I heard featured this weird, stuttering, robotic guitar thing––kinda like what a guitar might sound like if a cocaine-fueled Max Headroom where playing it––and then an almost violent pivot to a giant burst of punk guitar noise. Meanwhile, the inscrutable yelping of Molly Siegel rounds out the band’s take-on-the-world-and-defeat-it-while-having-a-laugh sound. I’m definitely curious to hear more from this band…

Attendees didn’t have to wait too long for Don Caballero to take the stage. Just a trio of dudes this time (I was told by my friend John Rickman they typically have four players). I psyched myself up for a highly clinical, cleanly calculated all-instrumental performance…

Drummer Damon Che, one of the original founders of the band and the only guy that’s been there from the beginning, served as the group’s de facto “front man” for the show. Those familiar with the band know that The Don Cabbers don’t typically feature vocals. However, their new album, “Punkgasm,” introduces this element to their sound much to the chagrin of die-hard fans. “You might be treated to some very raw entertainment tonight,” Che jokingly warned attendees.

Of course, Che’s brand of “raw” includes the kind of avant-jazz noddling and asymmetrical time signatures that give calculus professors boners. I heard they have a number called “Delivering the Groceries at 138 Beats Per Minute.” I think you’re starting to get the idea…

This was easily the most technically proficient rock show I can ever recall seeing. (Then again, not being all that well versed with these types of time signatures, maybe they messed up and went 7/8 and shoulda gone 11/8? I’ll never know…)

One thing I did know: These guys were feeling it and the audience was into what they were doing. Che, in particular, got very sweaty and nearly lost his breath after a couple numbers. At one point, Che said he needed a drink, proceeded to leave the stage and walk over to the bar. Unfortunately, the bartender was serving someone else; everyone, not just Che, had to wait for service! Once pint class was in hand though, Che returned to the stage and the band resumed wowing the audience.

You like metal riffs? The Don Cab’s gotcha covered. And most often, these monumental molten guitar jabs strike unexpectedly: There was one particularly memorable number where I was seduced by an intriguing jazz guitar flourish before the band suddenly swiped that carpet and went all big bad ass metal machine on me. A guy up front with really long hair started headbanging. Alas, no twirling.

One track that Che mentioned by name, “Shit Kids Galore,” came accompanied with such frenzied tom work that I thought someone had mistakenly placed a microphone inside a popcorn popper. Wow. Wow. Wow. That’s the only word that kept, um…popping…in my head.

I think my favorite Don Cab track of the night was the closing number: It started out with this squiggly atonal melody played high up on the bass that sounded like some sort of jittery insect’s mating call. That sound was then greeted by a very cool atonal harmony on the guitar (quick! Get me another insect!) and then anchored by some skillfully subdued polyrhythmic drumming. Of course, things didn’t stay there for long. The band kept building the aural acrobatics toward a volcanic crescendo. Like many of the numbers, the expansive nature of the composition was nearly as impressive as the skill on display in the instrumentation. The crowd applauded excitedly. I think they liked it. And not a single calculator in sight. ;)

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