By Will York

guardian photo by lori spears

Unless, that is, we're talking about another album featuring Orthrelm's guitarist, recent San Francisco transplant Mick Barr. There are already a bunch of them, dating back to his work as leader of Gravity Records cult fave Crom-Tech in the mid-'90s. And there are plenty more on the way. Orthrelm's third full-length is due this summer, marking the duo's first release for Ipecac Records in Alameda. Meanwhile, Ocrilim, the new album by Barr's guitar-and-drum machine solo project, Octis, comes out this week on Troubleman Unlimited.

The wiz

"This 'human' is a complete shred wizard," Three One G label head and Locust bassist Justin Pearson writes via e-mail. "I honestly feel that he should wear a purple wizard uniform everyday. What he does is mind-blowing."

In person, though, the modest, soft-spoken Barr doesn't exactly radiate the aura of the stereotypical guitar hero – a title that would surely make him wince. "I think it's a lot easier than everyone makes it out to be," he says of his playing, while walking through SoMa after a practice with the Flying Luttenbachers, which he recently joined on a part-time basis. "It's basically more about endurance than anything else, and endurance is just something that comes over time."

He makes it sound – and look – simple. Still, Barr's bionic guitar work is the furthest extreme yet in the ongoing cybermetal sweepstakes of the past decade – despite stiff competition from bands like Meshuggah, Gorguts, Grand Ulena, and the Dillinger Escape Plan, before the latter's recent descent into emo-metal hell. Orthrelm's early live shows set a new standard for information overload: a half hour of nonstop, nonrepeating jazz-metal that surged and slashed like late-period John Coltrane, yet was somehow completely composed down to the last 16th-note septuplet. With Octis, Barr accompanies himself using programmed, seven-limbed drum machine beats that are as unplayable as his difficult-to-fathom guitar parts. As with Orthrelm, there are no familiar melodies, no slow parts, and no resolutions – just a relentless outpouring of rapid-fire, atonal complexity.

And as with Orthrelm, it's not easy listening. "Basically, I don't really expect all that many people to listen to it," Barr confesses. "Honestly, I don't think that I would ever want to listen to any of the music that I make."

Slow down

These days, Barr says, he's more into the slow-motion minimalism of Sunn O))) and Morton Feldman. "I find it soothing," he explains. Look past the screaming irony in that statement and consider, for a moment, what it would be like to stay geared up in Orthrelm mode all the time. "It would be exhausting," he confirms.

Whether or not you enjoy their music, Orthrelm's uncompromising commitment and vision are worthy of at least a tip of a hat in this age of disposable CD-R releases by underground noise bands and amateur-enabling recording technology like Pro Tools. And despite Barr's caveats, there are reasons for listening to his music that don't involve torture or masochism. Sure, it's piercing, dissonant, and irritating as hell if you put it on in the background. But give Orthrelm's music some time with a decent pair of headphones, and you may find yourself breaking through the wall and finding, if not beauty, at least a bit of extraterrestrial enlightenment.

The facile analogy is to say that listening to Barr's playing is like stepping into an alien realm, a feeling reinforced by imaginary-language titles such as Iorxhscimtor (Tolotta) and Asristir Veildroixe (Troubleman Unlimited), as well as Barr's squiggly, amorphous cover drawings. (The owl face that adorns 2nd 18/04 Norildivoth is an exception.) Going back to Crom-Tech, in which Barr sang and shrieked in a made-up tongue, his groups have used imaginary languages in their titles – relying on fantasy much like Japanese hyper-prog duo Ruins. Barr mentions the connection but clarifies that "a lot of it is really influenced by metal and science fiction. And Tolkien."

Orthrelm's music has recently started moving in a different, more repetitive direction that's influenced not so much by sci-fi or Suffocation but by the Moroccan and Turkish folk music Barr and duo-mate Josh Blair have been absorbing recently. Blair, whose relatively loose drumming brings the jazz feel to Orthrelm's otherwise rigidly composed music, is staying put in Washington, D.C. He and Barr have had a long-distance musical relationship since Barr moved to New York a few years ago, and they're taking a break until the new record comes out and it's time to tour again.

In the meantime, Barr is focusing on Octis – he has two new albums in the can and four others in the works – as well as an album of solo electric guitar music. He's also been rehearsing with a new band led by drummer Nandor Nevai, formerly of To Live and Shave in L.A., in addition to joining kindred spirits the Luttenbachers alongside fellow six-string virtuoso Ed Rodriguez. Surely, Guitar Player magazine will be doing a blurb on this lineup once the word gets out, but why not get a little guitar-playing advice from Barr here first?

"It really just takes not having a job and not having anything else to do," he maintains. "I didn't have a job for years – I was just kind of like a bum. I did a lot of couch surfing and sleeping on people's floors. And I would basically drink a lot of coffee and just play."

Octis plays with Numbers and Sic Alps Sat/5, 10 p.m., Bottom of the Hill, 1233 17th St., S.F. $8. (415) 621-4455. Flying Luttenbachers play Feb. 18, 10 p.m., Hemlock Tavern, 1131 Polk, S.F. $7. (415) 923-0923; and as part of Noise Pop, Feb. 25, 9 p.m., Bottom of the Hill, 1233 17th St., S.F. $10. (415) 621-4455.