We must forever be thankful for the day sound enthusiast Nick Zammuto discovered fellow noise collector and cellist, Paul de Jong living in the same Innwood building as his in Manhattan. Out of a treasured collection of found sound bites the duo has been crafting songs that at first appear experimental, but with more careful listening reveal to be cohesive narratives bundled in heart-warming melodies.

"I think it's time for meditation," Zammuto said before playing back a "song" that is simply a repetition of the word "meditation" in the same person's voice in varying intonations (it appears to be various instances of the word extracted from a longer speech and stitched). "Meditation Outtakes" from Music for a French Elevator is just the kind of playfulness fans have come to expect from The Books, but the term "experimental" is limiting as well as misleading for these masters of melodies – melodies that are both graceful and memorable. Zammuto's soft singing voice has the quality of being at peace, of having found pockets of bliss amongst horror, and De Jong is a classically trained cellist. The marriage results in such a musical gift that when they performed a cover of Nick Drake's "Cello Song," the beauty that only Drake had so far held the key to, appeared to unlock easily, without a fight – in the Books, Drake soared. The wonder of the band, in fact, the magic in the coming together of Zammuto and De Jong, is that they have managed to unearth some essential element of music that allows something warm, musical and human to come out of even a string of the word "meditation."

While the Books have previously toured as a four-piece, the show at Webster Hall was just the two of them – Zammuto managing the samples, playing acoustic guitar and singing, and De Jong fueling the songs with his cello and switching to bass when needed. Five projection screens were set up, the biggest on the stage and two each on the balconies (though only one each were in use during the show). Matching video clips were displayed on these, most of them of the "found" variety. The DVD menu on the projection consisted of a row of letters or abbreviations along the bottom, serving as an encrypted setlist. For example, from 2005's Lost and Safe: "SLC" stood for "Smells Like Content," "be" for "Be Good to Them Always," from 2003's The Lemon of Pink: "M" for "Meditation Outtakes" and the encore "Oy!" for "That Right Ain't Shit," in which the last thing heard is a man saying "Oy!"

The second entry on the DVD menu was "abc," for a song Zammuto recently wrote as a gift to his newborn. Though it utilizes every alphabet, from A to Z, and every digit, from 0 to 9, and comes with a wonderfully animated display of colorful graphics for each of these characters, the young father announced that in retrospect he realized his gift might scare the child. For the rest of us, the band has promised a release of the DVD, containing other benefits such as subtitles to a notable clip in "Take Time," of African women talking and laughing. Amongst approving cheers, footage of Japanese children filled up the screen for "Tokyo," during which the band took a break while the video played. "Smells Like Content" featured white letters on black, an elaborate play on the words of the song. Zammuto's young brother Mikey, after whom the song "Mikey Bass" from 2002's Thought for Food is titled, and who toured previously as part of the four-piece, came out to play one song as a group of people up front enthusiastically cheered and hollered. "His friends are here," Zammuto remarked. The screen showed clips of the charming, young bassist, who put on an impressive, heartfelt performance.

Though the albums put out by the Books are gems, watching them live has its own magic. The New Yorker had picked them up in its music event listings, and De Jong pulled out a copy featuring an illustration of the two. As he leaned over to look, Zammuto said that he had not seen it before, while De Jong commented jokingly on the striking likeness.

--Photo by Sarahana Shrestha