Wolf Eyes seduces rather than bludgeons at PhilaMOCA

Jack White isn't known as a risk-taker. Wolf Eyes, the noise band that headlined Thursday at PhilaMOCA, is the diametric opposite. They sonically dwell on the edge of an abyss and often leap right off. So it's surprising that White's Third Man Records - which historically hasn't strayed far from rock, folk, and blues - released Wolf Eyes' new album, I Am a Problem: Mind in Pieces.

Since 1996, the evolving Michigan noise-project founded by Nate Young (currently a trio with John Olson and Jim Baljo) has become an unstoppable force on the international avant-garde-music scene. They've relentlessly toured the world and released hundreds of albums - many self-released or on very small labels, but two through indie giant Sub Pop - some of which are so brutal and alienating that even the most adventurous listeners can be repulsed.

The band - all three donning dark sunglasses and looking as if they'd stumbled off the set of Repo Man - lived up to their reputation at PhilaMOCA. The hour-long set consisted of five pieces, including elegant, winding versions of the aforementioned "Catching the Rich Train" and "Twister Nightfall." There wasn't much stage banter between songs other than a joke Olson told about Wolf Eyes' submitting a campaign theme song to Donald Trump. Imagine that.

Olson alternated among a mysterious electronic unit hanging between his legs, alto saxophone, clarinet, and an unwieldy homemade brass instrument that looked straight out of a junkyard. Baljo's electric-guitar playing - shifting from shredding to power chords to economical feedback - was subtle but formidable. Young, who has perfected the art of appearing disgusted with the world, screamed, mumbled, spoke, and scoffed into his microphone. His words weren't clear, but you could tell what he was saying was both cool and deranged.

The result was more mesmerizing than cacophonous. In the past, Wolf Eyes might pummel you into submission, but these pieces carefully wiggled their way into your body, slowly and seductively. The layers of acoustic and electric sound - squawks, rattles, grunts, zips, moans, clanks, fuzz - hit hard, but didn't invade through sheer force and then devour the audience whole. Instead, it was a soothing, nuanced, and uplifting experience.

After the set, I heard a young man say, "I thought they'd be more confrontational." The mellower, spacious, and abstract side of Wolf Eyes' always-morphing sonic world upset him. Some things never change.