Aural Aggravation

Christopher Nosnibor

Talk about a serious double-header: two very different bands for different continents, Boris and Amenra offer different types of heaviness, which, it transpires, compliment one another nicely when performed side by side. For tonight’s show, the last UK date of their extensive European tour together, they’re not so much side by side as in the vicinity or cross-aisle. The Brudenell’s compact stage paired with the vast backline of the two bands means there simply isn’t space for one band’s kit to stack in front of the other, meaning that they’ve been forced to split the event across the venue’s two rooms.

Walking into the recently-constructed, custom-built and really rather nice ‘Community Room’ which is situated to the rear of the original venue space and incorporates a lobby space and toilets, I find the entire audience facing toward the sound desk, in front of which Jo Quail is playing, wringing sounds beyond imagination and in manifold layers. As the PA is to the rear of the auditorium as it’s facing, it’s a little disorienting to hear the sound before you swelling in waves from behind. Quail is a superb performer, and her performance is captivating. I lack the guts to tell her so as she orders a drink standing next to me at the bar afterwards.

Jo Quail

Celebrated amplifier worshippers Boris’ most recent album, Dear, marks something of a return to their most thunderous, Melvins-influenced, riff-centric form, and the set for this tour to promote is essentially the album in sequence. It works well.

Boris

The set begins sounding like the end, i.e. the same, but also with extended power chords and fractured percussion that conventionally signal, the slowing and crashing finale of a performance. In between, while dominated by colossal guitars and thunderous drums, often hammered at a BPM that barely hits double figures. Drummer Atsuo Mizuno stands proud drum stick held aloft for what feels like forever before landing a stick against skin once more, to devastating effect. And that’s before he rains blows against the immense gong to the rear of the stage, sending seismic ripples of oud every whichway.

I forget where I am as smoke fills the stage and even from the front row the band become invisible. The set is essentially based around playing Dear in sequence. But rather than being predictable, pushing it in this way in a live setting highlights the band’s – and the album’s – diversity, switching between crawling doom and face-melting psychedelia. It also features some of the most unconventional-sounding accordion work you’re ever likely to witness.

Boris

They depart to rapturous applause, and rightly so. They’re on form, and to witness the Japanese trio crank out this much guitar and smoke in a 400-capacity room feel like a real privilege.

Moving to the main room, the front rows are rapidly filling out, and, like Boris, Amenra are uncommonly punctual in starting their set following a very short gap between bands. There are signs up around the venue to remind punters that segments of Amenra’s set is extremely quiet and that they’d appreciate the artists be respected. It’s fair play: I’d like to think the band’s fans are the kind of people who’d be respectful, but then, I’ve attended many shows where people have paid £20 for a ticket only to blab loudly to their mates, drowning out the band and ruining my experience in the process. It’s a bit different here tonight: when the band are whacking out megawatts even when quiet, there’s no danger of chat interfering. Nevertheless, it’s pleasing to see that everyone is happy to shut the fuck up and watch the band.

While Boris are notable for their range, Amenra tread a much narrower furrow and grind deep into it, working instead the dynamics of the quiet, moody passages against explosive riffs that plough on slow and heavy for an eternity. It begins with darkness and incense and a clanking monotonous rhythm. Their set is a career-spanning effort, which focuses on the more succinct and direct songs from their albums to date and only lifts a brace from their latest megalithic offering, Mass VI.

Amenra

Colin H. van Eeckhout spends the majority of the set with his back to the audience, either with the hood of his hoodie pulled up tight, or his distinctive and substantial back tattoo making a strong visual statement. In contrast, the guitarists clamour toward the front, throwing the heaviest chords into the crowd with a punishing force. This is dynamics. The band revel in utilising the full force of the extended quiet passage followed by sudden and well-timed explosions of monstrous riffage. And when they hit overdrive, you know it. This isn’t just music, they’re not mere chords: every bar is a body blow, and Eeckhout’s howls of anguish are almost drowned in the immense wall of sound blasting from the towering backline.

It’s intense, and then some, and to witness Amenra and Boris in succession is more than some humans could possibly handle. But ultimately, it makes sense. The differences make for a much-needed contrast, while the parallels make for the perfect compliment. It doesn’t get much better than this.