BITCHIN BA AS

Chicago-based deep drone trio find a philosophical friend in Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy.

he Bitchin Bajas have requested real ale. Just a few hours before they’re due to kick off the final night of their three-gig residency with Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy at Dalston’s Café Oto, the Chicago-based drone trio of Cooper Crain, Dan Quinlivan and Rob Frye are sat in the rear of the nearby Duke Of Wellington pub, explaining how the Bajas evolved from a 2009 solo bedroom dalliance to their place in 2016 as one of the most spellbinding live bands around. “It was when I was working with the group Cave,” explains the Bajas’ founder, Crain. “I was wanting to build beds of texture, sounds that I couldn’t bring to that group.” As Cave were conceived solely as a forward-propulsion psychedelic/kosmische jam collective, Crain decided to disseminate these new open-ended textural drone pieces under a new name. Yep. Bitchin Bajas. Crain sighs. “Look,” he says, “had I known it was going to go this far I would have maybe chosen a different name for it. I’ve, erm, embraced the name. It says, ‘Hey, we’re having FUN’.” Based chiefly around Acetone organ, Crumar DS-2 monosynth and manipulation of a Tascam reel-to-reel tape machine, Crain’s first Bajas release, 2010’s Tones/Zones, was a work of hypnotic melodic spookery that harked back to the ecstatic eternal drone works of Terry Riley, La Monte Young, Popol Vuh and Alice Coltrane, reaching for an emotion, “something hanging, that can take its time.” Crain started performing shows as Bitchin Bajas around 2012, aided by the electronics and rhythmic patterns of Chicago underground alumnus Dan Quinlivan and the saxophone and flute of fellow Cave head, Rob Frye. This new expanded line-up can best be heard on their self-titled second LP, 77 minutes of immersive, long-form live-sound shimmer, pulsing calm, twinkling autoharp, and deep

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