Upon entering Comet Pizza and Ping Pong at the intersection of Connecticut and Nebraska Avenues, one feels compelled to ask "Have I have arrived in the right location to see Tussle?" Despite the retro neon sign that announces the restaurant's presence, the interior of Comet feels like a family-friendly restaurant, rather than a small, low-key venue for local bands.
The place is a contradiction in itself. The concrete walls, covered with chipped paint, support a high ceiling that leaves air vents and wooden beams exposed. The space is a warehouse-like atmosphere connotative of the hip, underground music scene. But the tables, designed to resemble pingpong tables and flanked by park benches, are filled with parents and small children out for their Sunday night dinner.
Local chef Carol Greenewood and D.C. socialite James Alefantis, Comet's owners, opened the restaurant in 2006 and replaced the now-defunct Thai Room restaurant with a bizarre, fun combination of pizza and pingpong. Even general manager Gavin Wallis could not fully explain the reasoning behind the pairing.
"No one knows why exactly," he said. "It's just pizza and pingpong. Who doesn't like that?"
The restaurant lives up to its name, serving a small array of brick oven, thin-crust pizza while also taking pingpong seriously. At Comet, professionals play on tables in the back. Wallis explained how underground professional Jimmy Pelletier comes five nights a week to teach adults and children.
Around 8 p.m., the families begin to clear out and the restaurant makes a complete turnaround: lights dim as the wait staff places tea candles on each table. As college- and grad school-aged music fans clad in skinny jeans and plastic-framed glasses wander in, the place takes on a new atmosphere, and the abundance of plaid shirts and ironic facial hair gives the impression that this is a hipster frat party - but in a good way.
Comet's music scene is recovering from a three-month-long hiatus after neighborhood commissioner Frank Winstead claimed that Alefantis was trying to turn the neighborhood around Comet into Adams Morgan and referenced murders, rapes and cheating in his address at the local ANC meeting in June. Wallis said Comet does not condone these activities, and since re-obtaining permission to host performances in August, the venue has continued to support underground artists with hopes of adding a once-a-month DJ night.
Sunday night's headliner was Tussle, a group hailing from "San Frandisco." Group members Warren Huegel (drums), Jonathan Holland (drums and electronics), Nathan Burazer (electronics) and Tomonori Yasuda (bass and electronics) create a purely instrumental mix of driving percussion supported by funky, undeniable bass lines.
Tussle's set opened with "Saturnism," an introductory piece held together by the sound of Huegel's unrelenting ryde cymbal, followed by a transition into "Mehteh," the driving force of their new album, "Cream Cuts." It begins with a simple electronic sequence that builds as the two drummers pound out a bass drum-dominated, head-bobbing rhythm that carries the song through its hypnotizing electronic crescendos.
The band's setup reflects their nature. Huegel's and Holland's drum kits face each other, and band members rarely interact with each other, as they get absorbed in their individual parts but remain simultaneously united by the undeniable groove they create.
An instance of band interaction occurred when Huegel rose from his seat, steel drum in hand and engage in a back and forth sequence with Yasuda, who had temporarily traded in his bass for a cowbell. Aside from this brief moment, interaction was minimal, but Tussle played with a captivating intensity. The set consisted of ten songs that proved nearly indistinguishable from one another, as the band members subtly transitioned from one song to the next, barely acknowledging each piece's end. This created one continuous groove held together by the unrelenting rhythm of the drums.
Other highlights included "Animal Cop," a bass-driven track reminiscent of a cross between 1970s disco and Afrobeat, and "Rainbow Claw," whose dissonant and almost chaotic opening fades over six minutes into the soft sound of bells, functioning as the ideal closer.
A self-described jam band, Tussle transformed their spectators, previously characterized by the standard hipster facial expressions of boredom and slight anger, into a toe-tapping, head-bobbing, maybe even dancing audience.
You can reach this writer at thescene@theeagleonline.com.
