The national and international buzz on our own, homegrown NOMO is rather deafening these days. They're touring a ton on both sides of the Atlantic and getting glorious reviews from rags like Playboy, the Chicago Reader, and Time Out (in NYC). It's hard to say precisely who these people are; they're like a tribe of fifteen or so Detroit-area musicians — I'm not going to list all their names — who come together in various combinations for gigs and recording. Saxophonist Elliot Bergman leads with a light touch. The result is a tight-knit, disciplined sound that feels free and spontaneous. NOMO's sophomore release is called New Tones, and it's a thin, simply packaged little number with cool cover art, stuffed with sound.
The other half of my own day-to-day NOMO experience takes place in my kitchen, where I blast New Tones and dance around maniacally on the green-and-white-checked linoleum I picked out myself yet somehow slightly regret. NOMO makes me dance, sweat, and run into the dog dish. For I am no vampire.
NOMO is at the Ark Saturday, August 12.
[Review published August 2006]