March 2014
Nuclear Whale
Nuclear Whale was half hidden behind a keyboard stand (we don’t see many of them do we?), with a couple of small synths on that and a laptop off to the side. He started off nice and early with some chopped vocal drones that evolved into a slowly evolving stately theme, beats building underneath, before moving on in with percussive meeps and bass buzz, moving onto to a relentless grind. The voices come back, to be washed away by a shimmering wash and mid tempo beats, and science fiction sounds detune their way to a climax. It was a nicely constructed set complemented with a fast moving visual collage provided by Boo Cook.
Lorah Pierre and Andrew Jarvis
Lorah Pierre and Andrew Jarvis did a good impression of a Health & Safety nightmare, set up on two oil drum tables in the middle of the cobblestone floor. Lorah had strung two bulbs on cables over a pipe overhead and had scattered boxes with lights and light sensitive equipment dotted about. Andrew had a laptop and a Copycat that he de-tracked with a couple of knitting needles playing with the tape, lifting it off heads and playing with the speed. Their set began with a slow throb that seemed to be set off by the glowing light bulbs brightening and dimming, with a static screech of shortwave stammer twittering away in the background. The throbs change nature and detourned to some kind of aeroplane buzz before squalling out into two kinds of harsh noise and falling away to the pulsing lightbulbs again. It went a bit radiophonic before we had some really nice noise interplay between the pair of them, taking apart the sonic spectrum piece by piece until we get TARDIS’d away.
Wrong Signals
Wrong Signals wrong footed me by avoiding the full radiophonic sounds I associate with him, by starting with a glitchy rhythmic synth pattern that developed a string melody and wax cylinder crackle. This faded into a shifting pad with an insistent warble melody, that gave way to one of the few beats of Toby’s set: densely structured, stereo denatured snares almost washed away by sonar pops and bass bops. After this we really get stuck into some radiophonic frenzy, Raymond Scott-ish repetition, with some crazy playing over the top, before ending on a slow moving piece of sci fi bliss that conjured blade runner cityscapes.
Starting the evening off with an epic hour long set, Anormals, GotoR the guitarist sidekick from Asem along with Boris Nasa his spar from the old country, got to work to cover all the old ground of their history: techno sparseness, pounding kicks, grinding metal riffs, delicate guitar arpeggios, vocal samples, primary coloured bunny visuals and lush forests. At some point I was in the bar and the fire alarm went off (dust in the detector, it seems), no-one win the main room noticed – it was that kind of set, and I don’t think anybody was about to stand outside.
Making their Brighton début we had Mechanical Elephant, recently moved from Canterbury. Live drums and vocals; both processed and played straight. Starting with fairly straight drums and electronica as the set progresses everything became mutated, the drums more processed and less straightforward, the singing more elliptical the electronic voices more alarming and everything stranger and more spooky. Excellent and nowhere near long enough.
Completing the evening Shabash was down from Russia via London with her violin and pedals. No visuals, just a plain white light and in she goes, a drone into the pedals and a build and a melody and a paring down and a plucked sequence looped and a different drone and another melody and a breakdown… It sounds easy and familiar in bald text but intricate and alluring in the presence. A proper journey in a set and again – Far Too Short. I do love feeling that more is required really, but trains have to be caught and it’s damn well raining again.
Minimal impact came onstage bang on 8:15, seated at a tiny coffee table concealing his kit, a massive video of degraded VHS feedback washing in blue/yellow arcs across the giant screen behind him. Starting with a coarse buzz that thickened out into a full spectrum wall of noise before being slowly washed away in stately swathes of phaser and jets of steam as the buzz reasserts itself as a massive insectoid whirr. A low fidelity immersive experience.
Tony Rimbaud’s hand picked quartet, TR Agency, where second on stage for a commercial break. Ron Caines sat on a chair at the front of the stage, nick stalking behind looping collages, breathy sounds, synthy washes and swirling alto, while nick talks about Stuff. And chewing gum (
Static Memories’ Gus and Dan set up right at the back clearing as much space as possible for Mirei Yazawa to dance. She took up most of the attention of the players and us, lit from a lamp low at the side of the stage, with a pale blue block of ice slowly melting across the background. The music was typically beyond description: scraped bow across double bass, chimes and delays, Mirei twisting in response and driving changes in what they were playing, its all Very abstract. Dancer and musicians interlocked tightly.
Noteherder & McCloud had Bartosz Dylewski who had booked the projector and built the screen supplying visuals, and Chris Parfitt came roaring out in a storm of soprano notes primary geometries sliding around behind him. It took me a while to get up a similar head of steam, but there was some grinding sequences I enjoyed and a section in the middle with me howling through the bitcrusher while Chris circular blew squealing overtones on the sax that still sounds pretty damn intense.
HLCollins starts his set in a rattling trio with Nicholas Langley and Hassni Malik from The Vitamin b12 sat in line at a metal baker’s tray, scraping metal objects of various sizes about. Its theatre and oddly musical, and very funny. After a quick session with Henry up a set of steps banging a mic’d metal bin Nick and Hassni leave the stage and Henry moves onto a didgeridoo coffee machine that spits water but makes amazing sounds, he then moves onto a turntable and some balloons and effects for a comedy improv session that gets slowly creepier with a slurring hum playing back against clicks and bumps and occasional bird call for an ambient music for hell’s ante-room.
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Timothy C Holehouse reclaims his effects array and sets up his collection of objects, and starts Ashtoreth Shaman, his new project. He has his effects and is just feeding sound in: throat-sung didgeridoo gurgles, drones and whistles, Brighton beach stones, sticks. And it’s just that: an hallucinatory ever-thickening drone of immense depth. We just soak it up, eyes closed, letting the sound wash over us and watching the internal unfolding.