The day of the vernal equinox is not just March 20^th (or 21^st, as the determining year might have it). It isn’t just the day of twelve and twelve—where our hours of light equal our hours of night. The vernal equinox itself is, rather, a specific point in time where the Earth’s axis is exactly horizontal to the Sun.  It was at 11:44 am, coordinated universal time, that the Sun lay pointed directly at the equator. For just a beat in time our planet was at perfect alignment. And then, we rolled on.

             That evening, the sun set red over the city of Baltimore as spring’s first day came to an end. It had been a chilly day, but clear, and the bodies hustling by on sidewalks had carried with them a weight of optimism. As night lay itself upon the northern hemisphere, a clear and starry sky hung overhead. The night air was heavy with steam at each exhalation of breath. Out front of the Metro Gallery, a group of twenty-something hipsters walked by smoking a joint, and the air was perfumed with the sweet, odiferous scent of pot smoke.

            Inside of the Metro Gallery, sound check filled the air with life. Two men set up their paints at a table in the back, and dimmed their work lights to match the room’s ambiance. Two acrobats warmed up their bodies and mingled with the crowd. Massive Attack’s Mezzanine looped through the speakers, and stacks of televisions flashed static between random tracking-distorted images. The floor was laid with oriental rugs, and people lolled about casually, taking everything in.

             Minutes crept by, and people trickled in, and eventually the mic opened with a single boy sitting on the stage. He was soft-spoken, maybe shy, and they called him the Bowlegged Gorilla. Armed with an easy handful of acoustic guitars and what looked to be a small, foot accordion, soft finger picking took over the airwaves. A low beat rolled from underneath the soft melody, and his feet hooked the sides of that box, his shruti box. In an amazing feat of multiple talents, he played. Speechless, your only choice was to watch. There was no way that so many sounds could have come from one person—the beatboxing, guitar, and shruti box all arranged to form an intricate melody—but they were all just him. Always looping, always layering, the refrain builds and one can’t help but wonder, with a mouth that can do those things, what sordid tales his ex lovers would tell. His performance was nothing short of awe-inspiring—something that must be experienced firsthand to fully comprehend.

            Next, acrobats Lizzie and Brent took the floor in costumes reminiscent of the fairies of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Their thespian-like performance was part dance, part drama. Their contortions were playful and gravity defying. The audience sat semi-circled on the Persian carpets as only inches away, Lizzie perched herself on Brent’s feet in a yogic one-legged king pigeon pose.

            The openers were a delicious treat, but the main course was the event of anticipation. To describe Telesma is an impossible feat. “Telesma? They are kind-of Celtic.” “I would call them traditional meets modern.” “Telesma is tribal.” “Psychedelic.” “Percussive.” “Hypnotic.”

            One might describe Telesma as a sextet of some of the most amazing and talented artists in our area. One might say that the band is a collective of Joanne Juskus, Jonesy, Jason Sage, Ian Hesford, Chris Mandra and Rob Houck.

Once the music starts, though, the names and faces disappear. They are a collective force enveloping you from the speakers, and the only way to describe Telesma is as completely breathtaking. From the first faint rumblings deep within the didgeridoo, you are captivated. From the moment that the bass lines fill your body, you are no more than a prisoner to the music. A hauntingly beautiful voice reaches out to you, enticing you to come closer, and you are on the floor, on your knees, shackled and unable to move. Fingers laced, begging for more, one might think: “If this is slavery then I am your captive; just don’t stop that guitar.”

This is psychedelic rock like it hasn’t been seen in ages. Combining traditional tribal instruments with new-age electronic sounds, this music is an unstoppable force. Listening to the high-pitched screaming of the guitar is like the longest orgasm you’ve ever had, and it comes in a thousand different melodies. They played a number of songs from their 2007 album, O(h)M, as well as a handful of jams and unreleased goodies. There are the faster-paced sounds of “Penumbra,” heavy with drums and bass. “Amor Fati” is great funkadelic rock, wrought with the sounds of a mouth harp, and ethereal chanting. They go from chanting to singing; tribal drums to acid-trip guitar and an electric upright bass. The absolute eclecticism of their music is made apparent on all fronts: whether live or recorded, they span genres.

So what does Telesma have to say about themselves? Joanne calls their sound transcendelic. The word universal is thrown around. Their bio uses the hybrid phrase “electro-acoustic psychedelic world dance music.” But, to describe Telesma is an impossible feat—the better question would be: How does it feel to be an artist making such amazing music? One would be surprised to find the answer anything other than a resounding “damn good.”

The bottom line? You have to hear these guys. Telesma’s MySpace shows a pretty solid show schedule over the next couple of months. A handful of festivals and gatherings from which to happily choose, and the 40^th annual 4^th of July Smoke-In on the national mall is a do not miss. Buy their album. Play it. Fall in love. There is no negotiating.

To find Telesma on MySpace go to: myspace.com/telesma

To find the Bowlegged Gorilla, check out: myspace.com/bowleggedgorilla

Tags: Bowlegged Gorilla, Jessica Snow, Metro Gallery, Spring Equinox, Telesma, Vernal Equinox