The Tuesday Scissor Test at the Red Door is like having robots from outer space performing a transplant on your ear bones under the supervision of an anesthesiologist who is using plenty of mescaline. 

“(Scissor Test is) the soundtrack to a blackout,” says Patrick Bernard, a.k.a. DJ Beat Pervert, who handles all the bookings in addition to spinning tunes before, between and after sets by the live acts that play the Portsmouth club each Tuesday night. “The good thing about the Scissor Test,” he says, “(is that) it allows me to be very schizophrenic in what records I can play.”    

The series started in June with just Beat Pervert spinning his favorites, stuff that the martini crowds who come to The Red Door the rest of the week don’t particularly enjoy. After a while he began adding a few live acts before his own set, then started pushing the live acts later as more and more people were coming out. Now, live music runs from about 9 to 11 p.m. each Tuesday, and Beat Pervert tries to roughly match his DJ sets with the type of act booked for the night—some classic rock for bands, some hip-hop for rappers, etc. His (very loose) rule of thumb is that he tries to get at least one night of hip-hop, one of bands, and one of electronic acts each month, which he occasionally supplements with guest DJ sets. 

“I could usually never play out Squarepusher, Aphex Twin, Kid 606, (or) Knife Hand Chop at the Red Door any other time but during the Scissor Test,” he says of the unique opportunity to mix it up. “I’m still able to mix in hip hop and older (psychedelic) rock and shit like that in, and play out blends that mix Pink Floyd with Squarepusher, or Kraftwerk with Big Daddy Kane.” Indeed,  Beat Pervert easily blends even the most diverse music, dropping a few seconds of one song on top of another, “what the kids call mash-ups,” he says. He always keeps a steady beat going, running two turntables to ensure that music never stops, even for a moment.  

When not behind the DJ booth, with one hand on the dials and the other on his headphones, he can usually be found leaning against the wall next to the bar, chatting with regulars and enjoying a drink. The Red Door’s brick walls absorb what little overhead light there is, and the atmosphere is augmented subtly by candles lining the walls and scattered on tables. Most of the seating is in the form of broad, supple couches that one easily sinks into, punctuated here and there with ottomans and throw pillows. The hardwood floor and modernist overhaul to the old brick building give it the feel of a downtown Manhattan apartment.

While the setting is certainly classy enough to keep an upscale crowd comfortable, on a Tuesday night you’re more likely to see a scrawny kid with stripes of colored tape criss-crossing his jeans like an Eddie Van Halen guitar than someone wearing a tie. The usual separation between audience and musician does not exist here. Often there are no introductions before acts. Combine the intimacy of the small room and the barely-elevated stage, and you feel as if you’re simply at a party in a friend’s apartment, mingling to some good music and enjoying a drink or two. Many of the acts that play there are familiar with regulars in the crowd, or if not, are happy to sit and chat with fans freshly won over.

While Beat Pervert sometimes books performers from as far as New York City, perhaps coming through Portsmouth on a New England swing of a tour, others are University of New Hampshire students or familiar faces from Dover, Newmarket or Portsmouth. Several groups have played their first shows at Scissor Test. Bernard is always on the lookout for up and coming acts, those who are just starting out but show a significant degree of raw talent and innovativeness. Granted, this means there is a possibility that not every act will be great, but generally the reason these artists haven’t played many shows is that few venues are brave enough to book them.

It’s a recipe for diverse and unexpected musical experiences that run the gamut. So far in 2006, audiences have watched as:

• Advanced Apes, a rap duo, trade between themselves verses of rapid-fire rhymes about consumerism, political corruption and the environment. Sometimes aggressive, sometimes funky, their flow gallops along steadily with their upbeat tempos. They stroll right into the middle of the semicircle of couches, bumping against coffee tables while rapping. 

• Dealate Corvus—part mad scientist, part DJ, and maybe part devil—slams his fist on an uncooperative speaker, not for making ugly sounds, but for not making sounds ugly enough.

• The singer for the Antithesisters, heavy on distortion and feedback, is throttling his guitar, yanking the whammy bar, his arms, hands and instrument all vibrating violently. Thick reverb transforms the small loft space into an airplane hangar.

• Der Black Monstre sits cross-legged on the floor in front of a pile of tangled wires and punching blinking buttons. Over a racket like a mining operation in a fast 4/8 time, he shouts into a distorted microphone words read off a crumpled piece of paper. 

• JD Walker, MC, and Gabe FM—who hail from Portland, Maine, and in their flannel coats look like they’d feel at home felling trees—mix mellow Dub-influenced rhymes with a little industrial sound and catchy hooks that Walker delivers alternating between two mics—one held, one on a stand—sometimes switching mid-line. 

• The five guys of Bif Rike SNM make a bunch of sound using either every instrument they’ve brought—acoustic guitars, flutes, alarm clocks, saxophone and keyboard—or no instrument at all—stomping, clapping, and yelling in every direction like a work chant for a prison chain gang. Tennis balls fly off the ends of makeshift mallets as they are pounded on bucket drums, mic stands, tables, anything within arm’s reach.

The most striking aspect of many of the small solo or duo acts, especially the electronica performers, is the sharp contrast between the harshness of the music, which is heavily distorted, loud and fast, and the meek boyishness of the artists themselves, especially offstage. One gets the impression of man-child evil geniuses who, after months of experimentation in their basements with their gadgets and chemistry sets, finally muster the courage to unveil their creations and take over the world—in front of an audience.

One might understandably be reluctant to enter unprepared and alone into such a strange environment.  Indeed, though it is on the building’s second floor, it has an underground feel, and I approached my first time as a spelunker, not knowing what to expect, thinking, “Here be monsters.” If you have doubts, if you feel cautious, don’t be ashamed nor afraid. The music is always a great conversation starter, challenging you to think. Every week guarantees something totally different.