You don't really realize it when you listen to one of their albums, but on stage you can clearly see that Rainer Maria is schizophrenic. Each member of the band is strangely disassociated from each of the rest. Kyle, the guitarist, spends the show having a musical siezure. He's a Tazmanian Devil of sound, a rampaging cloud of flailing hair, arms, legs and guitar necks. He manages to contain himself enough to come in on time for his part on the backing vocals, but he's not always near the microphone when he does. It's a good thing he's got such a strong voice. Caithlin, the vocalist and bassist, by contrast, is possessed of a child's wide-eyed enthusiasm ground down to laser-like focus and precision. But she's a child more in the Dennis the Menace vein than the Shirley Temple. She sings with a passion for music that borders on the lethal. Bill, the drummer, is a silent, smiling, mischevious imp. The sort of imp who would think it was funny to toss hand grenades into the audience. The song starts and he's replaced, mystically, by a dopelganger who is a drumming machine. The song ends and the imp returns, silent, smiling, mischevious and lethal.
Watching Rainer Maria play is dangerous. Forget your ears; their music explodes off the stage and hits you in your heart with a three-inch punch. The air is so thick with noise that breathing becomes an effort. Your teeth rattle in your head until you think they'll fall out. You lose your voice just standing there, before you even try to scream. The band plays well and with passion. They are an absolutely great act to see. I can't wait to do it again.