January 2025
The Rossi Bar

Starting the year with a drone we have McCloud+1 start with a sequence bouncing out of the Fort Processor Geoff flicking a torch across the its light detector for more or less subtle modulations, winds coming from the Casio slowly coming up, Lou sitting onstage backwards, out of site mustering half audibly in and out of earshot; “Change the noise” and a push of a button brings in a different Casio sound the taped down keys keeping the drone going. The Fort Processor starts to bite deep as do the winds, then flashing round the knobs brings a harsh noise element then wailing off into feedback. “Laughing Out Loud”. A two note bass drone sequence makes itself audible through the squall. Lou’s voice all but submerged. Bass drum steals in, and gone, back again, Hi-hat, delayed claps bounce around the room. Head nods, McCloud is off for a drink, hood up. We can hear the words again, the bass and beats integrate into something “Change The Noise” – again the Casio drones switch. Then down to just the bass and bass drum. A cavernous reverb for the bass drum to lose itself. Snare now bouncing around our heads, then out again for the hi-hat. A drum pattern is lost. “No borders”, The missing pattern is rebuilt when it comes round eventually again and again. Gurgling in comes the noise synth again, Pulsating with bass heaviness that drives the beats away. The winds are back, a flurry then a very nasty biting noise and foghorn drones nautically come in against the continuing wind and mess with it, ending in a thin whining drill that toys with idea of forming into notes then squeals off again into grating machine noise, a new droning bassline comes in eventually. To be matched by a head whacking dancehall bass drum and hard snare. There’s some playing with the resonance on the bass synth to get a counterpointing beep and whistle to the bassline, very much trying to channel Higashi Hiroshi’s delirious swoops from “Pink lady Lemonade”, there’s some nice pinging as the sweet spot on the filter is hit. Lou’s voice still coming in and out, half heard dream words. The clap unobtrusively chugging in the background then slowly steaming full into awareness, the bass drum gone, swooping continuing now all gone apart from the steam and the swoop…

Nuclear Whale next, starting with a different wind and an audible warning bell, delayed swoops of modular synth wash across the foreground, it’s like an escape from an alien internment camp, The Grey Area in audio form. A beeping sequence across bass booms, everything shifting relativistically; space burbles and melancholic Carpenter melodies. A slow drum steals in against the beeps the bass drum shifts from the fours to a lopsided stutter across the bars, the beeps start to vibrate and shimmer, I can hear a church bell in the distance. They always remind me of Rowan. We’re just down to the aliens interrogating the church organ – the bell puts up a struggle but is overwhelmed and lost. The country chapel fills with the green folk, a stone tape memory of a beat tries assert itself against the new congregation, there’s a pinging in the apse, muttering in the nave, everything indistinct and muted, filtering away until a springy synth emerges to bring us an insectoid interlude and the Tibetan monks in the monastery next door start to do their stuff. But they’re mutating too, buzzing, the chrysalids chirrup and chilling winds push us all outside. The fields flatten and the skies yellow, time slows. Vast doors open and we’re pulled into the vortex. Everything expands, everything thrums ecstatically. I try not to look at the vast churning machines, the jet engines roaring, machine saws going about their infernal work. Beeping at last brings some relief, but the machines are taking flight against the workshop’s giant automatons. Carpenter-esque arpeggios from the chapel organ invoke nightmare melodies that grow and envelop us in their dark embrace. A squelching Lovecraftian march in place of a beat, that dissolves actually into a beat, the alien-ness recedes. And sanity prevails. At least, that’s what happened to me.

And finally…. Its Lekomo, Lee’s first set at The Spirit of Gravity and we can’t believe that. He’s usually to be found running the monthly Sunday Machine nights at The Brunswick. But this Thursday he’s standing tall behind a speaker balanced on the usual low coffee tables at The Rossi with his Teenage Synths device perched on top. And it’s off to a thunderous start Lee nonchalantly boshes in a monster staccato unison bass and kick pattern, a counter patter of noise slices in and morphs into a bassline, the same noise slides in again, but this time continues to slip around the beat. He’s pretty dynamic with the mix, things dropping in and out slurs and tight repeats. The second piece starts with a monster continuous bass, and a pounding that runs and stops, runs and stops. “Agony, fear, Pain” switches to 4 to the floor, then back to the pounding. And so on. Its all very big a bit like Lee. Some squelching and grinding works its way into the mix. And before you know there’s a kettle whistle melody wormed its way into things as well. Just when you have a grip on it you realise the bassline is a slow 50Hz pulse shorting out your mental processing. The next track is all in, ticking toms, slow kick, lopsided bass whoosh line, some vocal indistinctness telling you what’s right, the bassline is supplemented by a lower level flapping bass tone that dries the speakers a bit wild. More energetic ticking. Its all a bit relentless now. Slippery, too. Is that Click or kick on the 8s? the its pitchshifting all over. It’s a kick in the head up to 16s, back to 8s. the bass is suddenly proper loud. “You will know I was written to delete you”. There’s something Carpenter-ish about the atmosphere. A brief return to the first track then industrial strength circular saw, train whee drums, something mot quite like a crunching guitar riff, hom, hom,    hom, hom,    hom, hom. Lee starts to wobble and we get a faster kick, a proper full on buzzing saw-tooth bass, he seems to programming something on the fly, a clacking slap round the head, 8 to the floor. Bassline like a Space Liner slipping past fast. Then on to another, and another the return of the circular saw, the trains, the trains… The next starts with an old hardcore riff, pounding gabba speed kicks and keeps running like that for a while. It keeps dropping down to the kicks, deliriously, it’s like having the prince of darkness biffing you upside the head. A tease to finish that one, and then a slow down for the final track. A slower bassline on the 8s, saw riff again, all lopsided this time. A clopping slow beat comes in, other percussion scatters and stammers around it. A bass counter point to the saw riff, it’s a hypnotic, pulsating ends to the set. We wobble and throb. Lee beeps in response. Sound effect techno.