Posts Tagged ‘Experimental’

Oren Ambarchi & Will Guthrie – Cold Shoulder

Posted: 2 June 2026 in Albums, Reviews
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Futura Resistenza – 9th June 2026

Christopher Nosnibor

23 minutes is, of course, about the most music that it’s possible to fit on one side of vinyl without risking loss of fidelity, but the number 23 is also the locus of the so-called ’23 enigma’ popularised by William S. Burroughs, which suggests that the number 23 appears with unusual frequency in various contexts and may have a larger, hidden significance. Of course it’s likely a coincidence, but the fact that Cold Shoulder contains two pieces, each just over 23 minutes in duration, and thus occupying a side of the LP is undeniably an instance of the recurrence of the number 23. Did they compose the works specifically to the end of fitting as much music onto each side, or were they edited to fit for the vinyl pressing? Perhaps you need to have been at the show to know – for Cold Shoulder is a document of a live performance, recorded live in Berlin in late 2024.

Ambarchi and Guthrie have been collaborating for more than twenty years now (maybe even 23, who knows?), and Cold Shoulder showcases an evolved level of intuition: as their bio summarises, ‘Their musical dialogue, which previously moved through abstraction and volatile electro-acoustic experimentation, now unfolds with relaxed confidence, melding drifting Leslie tones, shimmering percussion, and fluid pulses that emerge and dissolve’, adding ‘It’s a document of experience; music that feels freer, more direct, perhaps quietly fearless’.

Constructed using layers of drones which hover and hum, trilling tones which stretch out over expansive minutes with barely minimal shift, subtly melodic elements gradually reveal themselves. Ambarchi’s guitar doesn’t sound like a guitar for the most part, as he coaxes and teases the subtlest of ambient strains of feedback and quivering sustain from his instrument, and Guthrie’s percussion is restrained beyond restraint, consisting primarily or the most delicate cymbal work, and the most occasional muted punctuatory thuds. Around ten minutes into the first part – ‘This Cold Shoulder’, some misty forms emerge, a vague rhythm, and organ-like drones, an evolving atmosphere that swirls skywards, a melting together of space-rock and ambient jazz. Notes warp and time twists, as the percussion becomes more complex and more prominent, yet still subtle, restrained. Further on, there is a slow, stuttering wind-down, during which the sounds become increasingly fractured and hazy.

The second part, ‘That Cold Shoulder’ finds Ambarchi’s feedback drones splitting into shuddering whines which call to mind Metal Machine Music, but gradually folds into a more gentle interlacing of quavering notes, while the drumming, still muted, gathers pace if not volume. Time simply hangs in suspension at this point… and gradually flakes into pieces, along with any semblance of structure.

It’s a wonderful experience to simply lose oneself in this ever-transitioning, eternally-shifting work, which ultimately comes to drape the listener’s ears with mellow tones, concluding with a segment which evokes something between space and the sounds of a tropical forest at dusk. But none of it explains the bizarre George Michael portrait on the cover…

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BIG|BRAVE – in grief or in hope

Posted: 24 May 2026 in Albums, Reviews
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Thrill Jockey – 12th June 2026

Christopher Nosnibor

A new release by BIG|BRAVE is a significant event – always. Sure, a new Sunn O))) album will attract way more clamour and excitement overall, since they’re simply so much bigger in terms of fanbase and press attention, but with Sunn O))), it’s fair to say that within certain parameters, you know what you’re going to get. And there’s no question that Sunn O))) continue to push those parameters. But equally, they’re the drone / doom Jane Austin, carving on their two inches of ivory. I love it, but when it comes to sonic exploration, BIG|BRAVE simply spread their range that much wider, and each release sees them venturing into new territory.

It’s hard to credit that they started out as a folk band, who by some chance discovered amps that got all the way to eleven. Their last three albums have not only been progressively heavier, but more experimental, and more emotion ally fraught. A Chaos of Flowers very much raised the question ‘where do they go from here?’ in grief or in hope provides a robust reply – and it’s quite a departure – but at the same, time, sees something of a return to their folk roots. It’s just not folk in the form most would recognise, twisted and bent as it is here.

As they note, longtime touring bassist Liam Andrews (MY DISCO, Aicher) joins guitarist/vocalist Robin Wattie and guitarist Mathieu Ball in the studio for the first time – and the result is a tempestuous, percussion-free work, which melds drone and folk and explosive noise together to powerful effect.

The songs are less overtly structured, and yes, we do miss the drums, which were so integral to the pulverising force of Vital (2021) and nature morte (1993). But in grief or in hope is nothing short of immense, and the droning squall of ‘a shape of shame’ is exemplary. Slow-burning drones are paired with splintering feedback, while Wattie breaks from a measured tone to something akin to a breakdown while stepping into the skin of Siouxsie Sioux. The guitars sculpt walls of dense, shimmering noise which possess the force to melt your face, and the levels of distortion are off the scale, both speaker-trashing and brain-melting. Amidst wails of feedback and a vocal which sounds bereft and sort of abstract, ‘verdure’ incorporates industrial grind and heavy, distorted drone and marks another shift in the trajectory not only of the album, but the band’s sound. It’s a different kind of heavy, and it’s suffocating in its dense intensity, particularly after a couple of minutes.

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The production is incredible, capturing the force of amps cranked up hard – the organic nature of the sound, the crackle and hum, the way the frequencies rub and resonate against one another, the integrity of volume to achieving certain sounds, particular and specific resonances. Lately, I’ve had a number of discussions with people who’ve held the position that volume in itself is not a goal. I do understand their perspective, but there are certain sounds, certain frequencies, certain sensations – and not only physical ones – which simply cannot be achieved unless there’s a level of volume which achieves a level of structure-shaking, shivering vibration. in grief or in hope is an album which simply wouldn’t have the impact it does were it not for the amps being dialled up and engineers and producers who appreciate that those frequencies, those moments of distortion, that wall of noise which at times almost submerge the vocals is exactly the objective.

‘skin ripper’ goes full Sunn O))) in its crushing, obliterative drone, each chord hitting like a tsunami, a tectonic tremor. Wattie’s vocal, however, remains composed, melodic, amidst the howling tempest, and the impact and power of the track lie in this contrast.

There’s no denying that in grief or in hope sees BIG|BRAVE explore new musical avenues, but the absence of percussion does nothing to diminish the band’s immense sonic force. In fact, when it comes to that, they seem unstoppable. In exalting the autotune on ‘an uttering of antipathy’, it should, by rights, result in a shrugging departure – but in their hands, the result is a monumental work, with Watties’s vocal wandering amidst a n obliterating blast of feedback and distortion.

The semi-ambient title track offers some relief from the pulverising force of the as album, and become lost in a swamp of flange and feedback.

Everything about this album is obliterative. It may be a very different sound for BIG|BRAVE, but it’s very much the sound of them at their best.

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Mick Harris & Martyn Bates – Murder Ballads [Incest Songs]

Posted: 21 May 2026 in Albums, Reviews
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Sub Rosa – 15th May 2026

Christopher Nosnibor

Mick Harris may have left Napalm Death some thirty-five years ago, but it’s still for his work with them – and his coining of the term ‘grindcore’ – that he’s largely known. There are, of course, far worse things one could be known for, particularly as this meant that he featured on the band’s seminal debut album, Scum. While having participated in numerous projects in the years since, Scorn will forever be an enduring standout in cult circles, but beyond this, Harris has explored far further-flung corners of the musical spectrum on many occasions with comparatively little recognition, with dark atmospherics having been his primary focus for a good number of years now.

The fact that this is the third instalment of Murder Ballads, recorded in collaboration with Martyn Bates and released on estimable Sub Rosa label in Belgium – which has released albums by William S. Burroughs, Brion Gysin, Test Dept, Oren Ambarchi, David Toop, Bill Laswell, Asian Dub Foundation… the list goes on – is a measure of how Harris has transitioned to what one might call more ‘arty’ territories, which may sound snobby or poncey to some, but let’s focus on the work at hand – at least, in due course.

Although murder ballads are likely most commonly associated with Nick Cave in popular culture, they have a long cultural heritage, with roots in the folk history of Scandinavia, England, and lowland Scotland reaching back as far as the 1750s. The entire premise of murder ballads is bleak and grim, and Harris and Bates remain true to this principle here, on an album which is mercilessly dark and lugubrious.

There’s no avoiding the fact that the subtitle brings an element of discomfort. We’re in a strange place right now, culturally, in that half of the world – or maybe that’s just half of the US and those in the UK who for inexplicable reason who describe themselves as ‘patriots’ while also being fans of Donald Trump – seem to think that paedophilia is just fine, and in many states, marrying cousins is similarly just fine. Similarly, incest porn and step-sibling porn is all the rage. Why? What is wrong with people? But then, history is built on tales of incest, going right back to Greek mythology. This is no more than an observation, and to note that as a species, we’ve been warped for the entirety of our existence. That discussion is an entire thesis in itself, though.

Murder Ballads [Incest Songs] is a long way from Peter Sotos territory. But what it is, is four ominously-shaded longform compositions which are uncomfortable and uneasy. As they pitch it, ‘Incest Songs is the final chapter of the Murder Ballads trilogy, and its most fully realized expression. Where Drift and Passages explored the post-isolationist frame through voice and single instrument, this third volume dispenses with that approach entirely, opening instead onto a more labyrinthine sonic architecture – one built from overlapping, saturating, blurring voices, all of them Martyn Bates’.

Bates does indeed prove to be versatile, and capable of conjuring the most moving vocal evocations. ‘The Bonny Hind’ is essentially a folk song, a shanty, even, at heart, but the lilting vocal, which would work as readily acapella as against conventional instrumentation – flute, or fiddle, for example – takes on a more ominous shade when pitched against groaning, shape-shifting drones. The result is unsettling, and would sit within the soundtrack of a folk horror movie in the way a warped, discordant rendition of a nursery rhyme would in more mainstream projects.

‘Sheaf and Knife’ is notable for its sparse nature. Bates’ voice is practically in your ear – and this ism no small feat of the production. Whispers, echoes, and reverberations echo around, and it’s not immediately apparent that most of this is Bates, the wind and the air, and the dank, low drones which define this album. ‘The Two Brothers’ – a seventeen-minute monster of a composition – drifts into moments of space-age spin, flanged swirl and fractal details turning a textured sonic nebula behind the vulnerable vocals – and the narrative said vocals deliver is chilling, a tale of a stabbing, whereby the narrator washes the blood off and goes about his business. Or something. While the lyrics sometimes trail away in swathes of reverb the auditory experience is gripping in itself. This is the sound of heavy fog, and of silent decomposition. This leads us to the album’s final cut, ‘Edward’, extending beyond seventeen and a half minutes is magnificently haunting. At times so sparse as to be barely there, it’s a trawl into the darkest of spaces, suffocating, claustrophobic. Bates croons and quavers with a detachment which accentuates the sense of disconnection. There’s something in the way he delivers the words, against sparse, eerie, near-ambient backdrops of difficult drones, that is quite chilling: calm, soft, psychopathic. Enjoy, but watch your back.

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Abrasive Trees – Light Remaining

Posted: 20 May 2026 in Albums, Reviews
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29th May 2026

Christopher Nosnibor

Abrasive Trees’ evolution continues with the arrival of Light Remaining. Over the last seven years, they’ve released a steady stream of EPs, a compilation album gathering material from the early EPs, a live album, and an hour-long drone album recorded by the project’s core member, Matthew Rochford during lockdown. While the lineups have been markedly different, expanding and contracting along the way, there has always been a sense of continuity, a commonality across their catalogue (beyond Rochford himself), and that’s an attention to detail, and a keen awareness of atmosphere, and of balance. Light Remaining, however, is their first full-length studio work conceived as such and recorded as a band.

The single releases, ‘Carved Skull’ and ‘Tao to Earth’ set a certain expectation and tone for the album – dark, tense, layered, and unashamedly arty, even literary in their leanings. And this is very much what Light Remaining gives us – a work that’s sonically immersive, engaging, but also contemplative, cerebral. There’s much to absorb.

With a spoken word introduction delivered over minimal instrumentation, ‘No Solace’ draws the listener in gently – you may even find yourself leaning in, ear cocked to the poetry – before the fireworks begin, an explosive sustained crescendo of rolling drums and soaring, searing guitars, amidst which Rochford maintains a near-monotone delivery amidst the ever-building surge of chaos. It’s difficult to distinguish whether this is a display of serenity or the paralysis of shock. ‘Star Sapphire’ brings contrasting, conflicting tones, textures, and moods, with some pleasant, shoegazey, post-rock chime and jangle paired with some dark, driving distorted chords, perfectly illustrating the attention to detail – and dynamics – mentioned earlier.

There’s something of the feel of Fields of the Nephilim at their most lugubrious and atmospheric to ‘Flickering Flame’ – think ‘Vet for the Insane’, perhaps – before it slowly grows in density and fogginess, and it flows into the rolling swell and surge of ‘Carved Skull’.

If the title suggests something of a slow fade, a diminishing time – and while I may well be overreaching in my interpretation – the very phrase, with its implications of a setting sun feels weighty and weighted, and to carry connotations of an eternal night, the light fading on a dying planet. And this feels like the mood which hangs over the album – a sense of the finite, of impending doom, even. It’s oblique, it’s indirect, but it nags away in the shadows of a work which is certainly darker than it is light. Yes, the light remaining is limited, and the shadows loom ever more darkly.

It’s on the final composition, ‘I Didn’t Mean to Hurt You’ that everything comes together. It’s nearly eleven minutes long, and they make full use of that time to gradually develop the mood, from an understated, picked guitar, rippling in reverb, slowly adding the layers and increasing the volume and density and drums and strings add more and more, picking up pace over time. It’s just shy of the midpoint that it really begins to race forward, and the adrenaline builds in line with the pace and intensity. And finally – finally – the levee breaks, leading out with a slow, deliberate trudging riff topped with a solo from the stars.

Light Remaining feels like the release Abrasive Trees have been building up to since their inception. It’s a sustained work of remarkable detail, nuance, but also density and force. Everything is perfectly realised. It’s huge. Sonically, conceptually, in terms of ambition and execution, the production… this is a peak, a new pinnacle.

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A Plague of Lighthouse Keepers – Towers of Silence

Posted: 19 May 2026 in Reviews, Singles and EPs
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Lay Bare Recordings – 9th May 2026

Christopher Nosnibor

One may be inclined to jest that a release like this should carry a warning – but the joke falls flat when technically, it does: the notes which accompany the release on Bandcamp sets the scene for the debut EP from Dutch experimentalists of A Plague of Lighthouse Keepers thus:

Whilst most drone-metal outfits focus on creating atmosphere by composing ambient compositions with tremendous power and volume, the Lighthouse Keepers use more traditional doom/sludge metal as a starting point and explore its differences and similarities with genres such as free jazz, raga, noise and classical minimalism.

Elsewhere, they’re described as sounding like ‘a disturbed lovechild of OM, Sumac, Swans, Miles Davis, and Pandit Pran Nath, combining lengthy improvisations with ear-shattering explosions of intensity’. How could a lovechild of that lot be anything but disturbed?

And so it is that we enter by way of ‘The Massacre of Flour’, a title of which conjures images of a bloodbath in a bakery. What is sounds like is…. nothing short of wild. Its seven minutes leads the listener through a series of conjoined segments, arriving in a crazed blast of shrieking noise, a frenzied cacophony of feedback and squealing sax before lunging into a thick, sludge riff, which in turn yields to a slow, almost ambient drone passage with mystical swirls which rise like desert mirages. Each is gripping itself, and the transition to the next takes place almost imperceptibly: one moment you’re here, then, somehow, you’re there, in a completely different scene with no recollection of how you came to be here – rather like the way scenes change in dreams. And suddenly, the hazy serenity is torn asunder, lurching into a tectonic rift from which burst larval torture resembling Swans circa the Young God EP. It’s absolutely fucking brutal, the sound of pain, distilled and amplified

‘I Fuck People’, the shortest song on the EP, goes in hard on the avant-jazz noise chaos, forming a heavy undulation of bleats and shrieks by way of a backdrop to savage, ravaged, demonic vocals. It’s the sound of purgatorial torment. But all of this is simply a prelude to the main event, the nine-minute ‘Towers of Silence’, on which they really flex all of their muscles. Easing in gently with some abstract desert folk with hints of Eastern esotericism, it’s a slow, gradual build. There’s something meditative, spiritual in the vocals, until things begin to get twisted, mangled, and tangled. There’s anguish, there’s tension, and unease grows… breathe. But ululations which begin soothingly grow tense, and things spiral to a hypnotic cathedral of sound.

Towers of Silence may only contain three tracks with a combined duration of just over twenty minutes, but its range and intensity are something to behold. It’s drone metal, but not as we know it.

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Listen: ‘I Speak Forgotten Voices’ by Trelldom

Posted: 14 May 2026 in Recommended Streams and Videos, Singles and EPs
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Iconic Norwegians TRELLDOM, founded by legendary vocalist Gaahl, now reveal the eerie advance single ‘I Speak Forgotten Voices’ as the final track selected from their forthcoming new full-length: …by the word…

…by the word… has been chalked up for release on May 29, 2026.

TRELLDOM do neither comment on their music nor explain their art.

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With …by the word…, TRELLDOM are pushing forward hard into their new musical era that was ushered in by the previous full-length …by the shadows… (2024), which ended a 17-year hiatus of the Norwegian band.

Mastermind Kristian Eivind Espedal aka Gaahl and his diligently selected collaborators have gone even beyond the complex yet sinister sound that they established with …by the shadows… The exponentially grown confidence and hard-gained experience of joining together seemingly quite different musicians is reflected clearly in each track of …by the word…
TRELLDOM have concluded the process of escaping the narrowest definition of black metal without compromising their artistic mission. Their music does not only stay loyal to the spirit of their black metal roots, but the Norwegians are making a solid point that their new sound is even more dark and fierce than ever before – just in more twisted and unhinged ways.
…by the word… is the result of Espedal expanding the immense range of his vocals even further into unexplored territories. And it should be noted that this was partly achieved by his return to the famous Grieghallen Studios in Bergen to work again with legendary producer Eirik Hundvin aka Pytten, who was instrumental in the creation of the ‘Norwegian black metal’ sound.

Although Espedal remains firmly at the helm of TRELLDOM, the current line-up plays a massive part in the fresh exploration of musical extremes. Guitarist Stian “Sir” Kårstad (formerly also in DJERV) guarantees a form of continuity as he already contributed to the second and third album of the band. Furthermore, the new constellation features renowned percussionist Kenneth Kapstad, formerly of MOTORPSYCHO and hammering the drums in SPIDERGAWD, MØSTER!, and THORNS. Kapstad brought the internationally acclaimed jazz musician and saxophone player Kjetil Møster (MØSTER!, RÖYKSOPP, THE END) along. Bass player Eirik Øien is the latest addition to the cast of characters.

TRELLDOM were founded by Gaahl in Sunnfjord, Vestland in 1992. The band’s early trilogy of albums, Til evighet… (1995), Til et annet… (1999), and Til minne… (2007) are all regarded as underground milestones of black metal history. Espedal is widely accepted as one of the leading figures of the Nordic black metal scene. The enigmatic vocalist joined the notorious Bergen outfit GORGOROTH in 1998 but soon contributed to a wider range of projects that include Einar Selvik’s WARDRUNA, GOD SEED, and in 2015 he also launched his new band GAAHLS WYRD.

TRELLDOM continue in the tradition of all of Espedal’ art, which asks to always expect the unexpected. With …by the word… the exploration of avant-garde dissonance, wicked rhythm patterns, and wild ideas again destroys preconceptions and demands intense listening. Better prepare to be challenged by every note!

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Russell Haswell – Let it Go

Posted: 28 April 2026 in Albums, Reviews
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Editions Mego – 1st May 2026

Christopher Nosnibor

With absolutely no referencing of that animated Disney movie, the textual contextualisation for Russell Haswell’s latest sonic assault echoes what I’ve been saying – and writing – for some time now. I feel a small sense of elation… but equally a certain tiredness. I’m 50. And while no doubt global history is essentially a tale of innovation and destruction in equal measure, the last quarter of a century has felt truly hellish, as if the exponential pace of progress has run in parallel with an ever-accelerating desire to wipe ourselves as a species from the face of the planet.

It has been twenty-five years since the seismic events of 2001—when twin towers collapsed under terrorist attack and Coventry’s sonic insurgent Russell Haswell launched his inaugural salvo on the original Mego label with Live Salvage 1997–2000. The intervening era has delivered unrelenting turbulence: protracted wars, institutional corruption, a global pandemic, the resurgence of fascist currents, rampant media distortion, and omnipresent surveillance. For Haswell, a lifelong admirer of 1970s and 1980s dystopian cinema, the verdict is unequivocal: “Science Fiction is now!”

It’s hard to argue that the moment in which we find ourselves has all the hallmarks of every dystopian fiction ever imagined rolled into one unimaginable fusion, and that we are inching closer by the second to the end of days.

Haswell has long used sound to articulate the horrors of the 21st century, both as a solo artist and in collaboration, notably bringing additional layers of abrasion to Consumer Electronics, and while the accompanying notes detail quite extensively the equipment used, the influences, and the creative aims of Let it Go, my focus here is more on what it actually sounds like and the listening experience.

The first few seconds of the first track, ‘Exit Downwards’ are innocuous enough: a drone, nondescript, smooth – but within seconds its rent with shuddering glitches, squelches, and discordant clanks, not to mention the stammering thud of a particularly sharp kick drum. And over the course of seven minutes, it pumps and pounds blasts and bleeps like a circuit in meltdown. It’s pretty tense stuff, and descents, tension, and anxiety are recurrent themes not only in the titles, but in the formations of the compositions themselves.

‘Fall 3’ and ‘Fall 2’ follow the theme of descent, and manifest as wibbly collage works, while ‘The anxieties of our time’ is fairly straightforward in its implications and manifests as a head-swimming, dizzying panic attack, a meltdown in musical form, the crackling industrial glitch monster that is ‘Stress Testing’ functions on numerous levels. As much as the phrase relates specifically to financial, economic, and societal systems, there is also the stress test as it relates to the effects of physical activity on the heart, and, by association, it feels like an implicit hint of the stress we as individuals find ourselves subject to on a daily basis: how far can we – individually, and collectively – be pushed under the late capitalist model? At this moment in time, it seems like we’re close to finding out. And through swooshing sweeps and rippling fractures in sonic fabrics which twist and flare, Russell Haswell renders an aural replication of the overwhelming experience of life right now.

In comparison to some of Haswell’s releases, Let it Go is not particularly noisy or abrasive, but that doesn’t mean it’s any less intense. Even the ambient hums of ‘Curated narrative’ bring a hovering tension which is difficult to step away from.

Christmas is a difficult time for many, and while there’s no indication of what inspired ‘Thu 25 Dec 2025’, it buzzes and throbs for a relentless six and three quarter minutes like an angry hornet, trapped in a greenhouse which is slowly collapsing in on itself. The final track, the thirteen-minute ‘There’s always a bit of light somewhere’ seems to offer a thin ray of hope in its title, but the fine metallic scrapes and glistening edges which intertwine ominously and with no discernible form are far from comforting, and you find yourself on edge, sensing darkness visible and encroaching from all sides. Yes, There’s always a bit of light somewhere, but that somewhere isn’t here.

Let it Go is varied, exploratorily, and an artistic success, but it’s by no means the easiest listen. And for that, I say ‘good’. Embrace the challenge.

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Watch: ‘Tao To Earth’ by Abrasive Trees

Posted: 28 April 2026 in Recommended Streams and Videos, Singles and EPs
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Experimental-rock band Abrasive Trees have announced their latest offering via Italian doom label Argonauta Records. ‘Tao To Earth’ displays the band at a spiritual and psychedelic edge, revealing more of their emotional centre. 

Band leader Matthew Rochford said of the release:

“This track is based on a lucid dream and points to themes of finding meaning amidst a chaotic and confusing world.  The lyrics were originally written as a poem and we just expanded that to go into an uninhibited slightly prog-rock blast.”

‘Tao To Earth’ is out on all platforms and features an incredible video by visual artist Jess Wooller.  There’s an exclusive remix by producer Niall Parker of Gravity Machine via Bandcamp too.

Watch the video:

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Utterly Fuzzled 7.5: Bhajan Boy / Lou Richards / Piró / Andrew DR Abbot / Jo Dale – Fulfordgate WMC, York, 23rd April 2026

Posted: 24 April 2026 in Live, Reviews
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Christopher Nosnibor

It may be numbered 7.5 in the Utterly Fuzzled catalogue, but there’s nothing ‘half’ about this event. Showcasing quieter and more acoustic-based acts than usual, it does mark something of a departure from their usual mix of indie / alternative / different / stuff, but this stacked five-act bill still brings variety and quality in equal measure.

The joy of these nights is that you can turn up without knowing anything about the majority of the acts and still know there’ll be plenty of interest, even if it’s not all to your taste. Put another way, an Utterly Fuzzled night is not dissimilar to how it was listening to John Peel: a mixed bag, you might not love all of it, but it would never be dull and you’d always come away with something new that made an impression. And tonight is absolutely no exception.

Jo Dale – event co-organiser and bassist with local favourites Knitting Circle is on early doors, nervous and questioning the wisdom of putting herself on for a solo acoustic set – doesn’t make the obvious choice of playing versions of Knitting Circle songs. Oh no. Instead, it’s a whole new set of songs played on acoustic bass, one of which was penned mere hours before when she realised her set was too short. The combination of nerves and newness make for a slightly shaky start, but she’s a deft tunesmith and the audience is behind her (metaphorically speaking, that is) and she finds her feet and confidence over the course of her handful of songs.

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Jo Dale

Andrew DR Abbot is an old hand, and a longstanding feature of the DIY scene in the North. It was more than a quarter of a century since I first stumbled upon him playing baritone guitar as one half of That Fucking Tank, supporting Whitehouse at The Grapes in Sheffield. Whitehouse were too quiet and rather disappointing on that occasion, and TFT were the act of the night by miles. While now performing – again with James Islip, and still with the baritone guitar – as Lands and Body, he’s also doing solo stuff which is an electroacoustic sort of set up, involving field recordings by way of a backing to guitar that’s looped and layered. He’s at ease on stage, and the set simply flows. Starting with a 12-string guitar and switching to an eight-string, Abbot deploys a bottle, a tiny bow, and various other tools to augment some technically proficient picking and fretwork. Cascading notes create an immersive, atmospheric continuous piece which transitions through a sequence of passages. To say that it’s ‘nice’ may sound weak and noncommittal, but as a listening experience, that’s exactly what it is, and I find myself feeling calm but subtly exhilarated.

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Andrew DR Abbot

Piró – over from Spain and touring alongside Andy Abbott – plays vibrant folksy songs with a Latin flavour, routing an acoustic guitar through some pedals with loops and distortion making for some interesting sounds. His set was marred somewhat by some noisy sods at the back who talked and laughed constantly, and talked and laughed louder during the louder parts. But like a pro, he kept a level head and simply played on, and gave us some nicely worked loops and guitar detail in songs performed with heart.

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Piró

Lou Richards’ set was a compact affair comprising just four songs, the last of which was a John Cale cover performed alongside one of her former bandmates. But less is more, particularly when it comes to poetical words paired with delicately picked clean electric guitar. It’s pleasant, a very different kind of folk, about hedgerows and heritage, nature and nurturing.

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Lou Richards

Bhajan Boy is sporting a Fall T-shirt and brings big drones which form the basis of a set that builds slowly and deliberately, with some clattering and clanking that adds considerable texture. It’s only gradually that the drone evolves into a dense noise, as the set bhuilds subtly in layers and volume. Twenty minutes in and I’m wondering how much further he can take it, how much more he can add. That’s when he starts on the bellows and the sound really swells to a huge swashing sonic tide, rendered all the more full-spectrum by bleeps and crackling distortion, before gradually pulling back through a very long tapering wind down.

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Bhajan Boy

It’s an immersive soundscape, which is very different from the rest of the lineup. This in itself is the quintessence of the Utterly Fuzzled ethos, and in a time where live music is struggling and touring is difficult, a night like tonight stands as a beacon.

TSR2 – Transmission

Posted: 20 April 2026 in Albums, Reviews
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Wormhole World – 20th March 2026

Christopher Nosnibor

Given the diminishing number of grassroots venue and the changing nature of live music consumption – whereby the masses flock to £60+ arena shows, and are happy to pay £20 or more to see a third-rate tribute act while swilling £8 pints and yammering away loudly to their mates for the entire evening, with barely one ear on the music, it’s small wonder acts who are new and / or more niche struggle to get bookings. And without taking your music to a new audience through live shows, if you can’t afford PR to plug your music to radio stations and the like, how are artists ever to break through the algorithmic recommendations and reach people? This is even more of a challenge for experimental electronic acts, as most small venues are more likely to showcase ‘bands’ or guitar-based music in the main, unless they’re doing something that’s promotable as ‘electropop’ or similar.

It’s thanks to the EMOM (Electronic Music Open Mic) network, and, in particular, the EMOM nights in York, hosted by North Facing Garden at The Fulford Arms – one if the most accommodating venues there is, who don’t only welcome weird and experimental shit, but have sound engineers who are up to the job of facilitating the kind of noise the acts who play such events are striving for, that I’ve caught TSR2 live on numerous occasions. These nights don’t only host bedroom explorers just starting out, but acts with respectable recording careers who simply can’t get a foothold on the regular gig circuit. And TSR2 certainly have quite a recording career already.

A yin / yang / pro / con of the EMOM format is that each performer gets just fifteen minutes, which is great by way of a showcase, a taster, and also great if you’re not digging it as no act is on long enough for it to get boring, but of you are digging it, or the music itself requires a more expansive set…

Transmission is TSR2 serving a more expansive set, with ten tracks and a running time in the region of an hour. It’s their second release on Lancashire label Wormhole World, following Birdstrike! in 2024, and it brings full-spectrum bleeps, churn, and imaginative abstraction, and the first composition – which is also the title track – brings all of this simultaneously, with space-age heavy drone given structure by some industrial strength beats which hit hard.

There’s ambient abstraction and swirling spaciness in abundance, all the oscillations and layers bouncing back and forth off one another, skittering and surging, with moments which elicit the essence of R2D2, others which are more like wading through long grass while struggling to find the path.

Muffled samples merge with the delirious digital meltdown that is ‘Modern Life’ and while it does have me briefly contemplating ‘Darker Avenues’, samples float and echo around the darker ambient spaces of ‘The Salt Marsh’. The ten-minute ‘Sewer Lawyer Logic’ is a dark, detailed exploration which ventures into dank sonic territories, and ‘Some Of You Had Better Go Home’ wanders between the terrains of Krautrock and Industrial – specifically at the point where Chris and Cosey make their departure to spawn techno.

Transmission evokes the atmosphere of space travel – but more in the sense we imagine than of the latest vanity loop around the moon – and laser-squirting sci-fi explorations. It’s a varied album, which presents shades of both light and darkness and ever-shifting moods.

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