Christopher Nosnibor
As a venue for a live music event, The Cemetery Chapel in York is an inspired one. It’s not only a remarkable building and a perfect space for music – its high ceiling and being a perfect rectangle mean the acoustics are superb – but it is a functioning chapel in the middle of a massive graveyard. Again hosted by The Velvet Sheep, it’s a very different affair from the ‘Gothic Moth’ event held in this same space last September, but still feels entirely fitting to be here.
I arrive a few minutes before doors, and spend the time indulging in one of my favourite graveyard games, of ‘find the oldest headstone’ but soon find myself distracted by the ages of many of those who died in the mid-1800s: there were many children, some only months old, and many adults between the age of thirty-five and fifty, which made the ones who made it into their eighties and nineties something of a surprise. And this would not be the only surprise of the night after purchasing a glass of Shiraz and finding a seat close to the front.
Futures We Lost presented a pleasant surprise by way of a start to the evening. The solo project of Doug Gordon, the set offers up expansive, haunting synths, occasionally brooding and dark, propelled by reverby, hypnotic programmed drums. For large passages, it’s beat-free, and dense, sonorous drones, distorted, ominous samples, discordant chimes, and occasional blasts of abrasive noise echo around the high-ceilinged chapel. Cracking hums and fizzing static swell into thick layers which hang like mist in the candlelit space.
Futures We Lost
Following immediately, Hanging Freud – a band I’ve raved about in the recorded format for quite some time now – bring the temperature down a few degrees: icy synths, thick with gearing textures grind against dolorous drums. Paula sings with her eyes cast upwards to the ceiling, or the heavens, her vocal between Siouxsie and an almost choral croon, rich and often reminiscent of Zola Jesus. Musically, they offer strong hints of Movement era New Order. The songs are concise and compelling and pack in a palpable density of atmosphere into their brief spaces. It’s growing dark outside now, and against the candlelight the duo are barely visible apart from Paula’s platinum hair and pale forearms, but the mood is even darker inside as the songs bring an ever-increasing emotional weight. The songs are all driven by bold beats, with crisp and heavy snares cutting through the thick swathes of synth. They don’t talk, they just play, never breaking the wall or the spell, ending with a simple ‘Thank you’ before slipping away and cueing the arrival of the interlude.
Hanging Freud
Raising the curtain on Act II, The Silver Reserve – another solo project – bring a significant stylistic shift with a set of introspective post-rock / slowcore, with soft-focus solo acoustic guitar and vocals with additional loops and lots of reverb. A couple of the songs felt a bit disjointed, and sat at odds with the gentle flow of the emotive, reflective ballads, which draw heavily and with sincerity and honesty, on personal experience. The perhaps less-than-obvious comparison which came to mind as I was listening was later Her Name is Calla, although their work was in turn drawing on Radiohead. In between the tuning and returning and chat, the songs are pleasant, but the set as a whole, though well-received, wasn’t entirely gripping, and while contrast is key to keeping an evening moving, this set seemed to stall the flow a little.
The Silver Reserve
Dead Space Chamber Music are something else altogether, and you would never know by sound alone that there are only three of them. The set begins by stealth, a sparse introduction with percussion like soft waves on sand, folk vocals seem to emanate from the back of the room before ringing glasses create a haunting wail. Then things begin to get really interesting, and their innovative approach to the creation of sound is something to behold. Drummer Ekaterina Samarkina is particularly impressive in her work and provides a real sonic focal point, first applying a bow to the edges of the cymbals, while singer Ellen Southern occupies herself for large parts by creating remarkable sounds in unconventional ways: the rustle of a foil sheet being unfolded slowly is just a start, and abstraction gives way to thunderous drums and slow, deliberate guitar. This is dramatic, and this is exciting, unexpectedly so. They incorporate a wide array of instruments, from bells and whistles to horse’s skull – although in truth there are no whistles, but pretty much anything else you could name is in the mix their sound and performance is bold and theatrical.
Dead Space Chamber Music
I tend to wear earplugs when in the presence of live music, but didn’t for this: it wasn’t loud, until it was: from seemingly out of nowhere, the volume had crept up to a pulverising roar, evolving towards a Swans-like climax consisting of a brutal percussive barrage and squalling guitar and vocal ululations. The blistering wall of sound attained the force of a tsunami for a sustained crescendo, during which time stood still, and while some members of the audience swayed and nodded in their seats, I found myself practically paralysed by the sheer sonic intensity. The focus of the three musicians was absolute, and while Southern went through a number of changes to her visual presentation, Samarkina and guitarist Tom Bush, who really cut loose with some monumentally treble-heavy distortion during the second half of the set, lurk in the long shadows of the flickering candles as they grow ever shorter and the venue grows ever darker. The effect is nothing short of stunning, making for an almost overwhelming finale to a night of the most remarkable music.
Aural Aggravation 