Leeds | Aural Aggravation

Posts Tagged ‘Leeds’

Helmet – The Key Club, Leeds, 5th October 2019

Posted: 6 October 2019 in Live
Tags: 30x30x30, 5th October 2019, Helmet, Leeds, Live Review, Riffs, The Key Club, Tour

Christopher Nosnibor

Riff after riff after riff.

Celebrating their thirtieth anniversary, Helmet are playing thirty-song sets in thirty cities. It feels like an immense privilege that Leeds is one of them, and the fact it’s the 150-capacity Key Club even more so. With only ten tickets remaining for sale on the door, for a cult band who’ve only released two albums in the last decade, they’ve retained a hardcore following, not all of who, are old buggers.

With no support act, they take the stage at eight sharp, and immediately start with the riffs. Not a word at the start, nor between songs for the first half dozen at least. Instead, it’s all about the riffs.

Riff after riff after riff.

The extended freeform solos drift into the background while the rhythm section thunder on relentlessly: the floor-shaking, gut-churning bass, the rhythm guitar that blasts out concrete slabs of noise.

Riff after riff after riff.

The blunt, bludgeoning weight of thick, stop/start chunks of noise that became the defining feature of Nu-Metal are Helmet’s staple, but they did it first and did it best. Helmet were also one of the first off-the-street jeans ‘n’ T-shirt bands, and Beavis and Butthead were on the money when they observed that “That drummer looks like a regular guy,” and “If you, like, saw these guys on the street, you wouldn’t even know they were cool.” And yes, they are cool. Seriously cool. Their influence clearly extends far, far beyond their fanbase and commercial reach, which peaked in the early ‘90s. But being cool is also about pushing on, and Helmet’s achieving radio play and MTV exposure around this time was a matter of coincidental timing rather than strategized mass appeal.

There’s no messing, no posturing: Page regales us with an amusing anecdote about being rehearsing in a space next to Buck Cherry, who commented on the fact the band load their own gear, and who they heard rehearsing their between-song banter. But I never mentioned that. It’s one of only a few moments of chat we get but what’s keenly apparent is that these are nice guys, with no pretence or rock-star delusions, and with their major-label years long behind them, no industry bullshit surrounding them.

They play songs in small venues.

They play hard.

Riff after riff after riff.

Song number thirty is ‘In The Meantime’. It’s blistering. But then, so were the preceding twenty-nine songs.

And long may they continue to knock out the riffs.

Emma Ruth Rundle / Jo Quail / Dystopian Future Movies – The Brudenell Social Club, Leeds, 27th September 2019

Posted: 28 September 2019 in Live
Tags: Brudenell Social Club, Cello, Dystopian Future Movies, Emma Ruth Rundle, Emotive, Goth Shoegaze, Jo Quail, Leeds, Post Rock

Christopher Nosnibor

Over the course of the last eleven years, Emma Ruth Rundle has been busy, and has built a fair body of work in various forms, and her third solo album, On dark Horses has not only cemented her position with existing fans but also expanded her fan-base, resulting in tonight’s 400-plus capacity show close to a sell-out in advance.

It’s getting busy by the time Nottingham’s Dystopian Future Movies take the stage at 7:30, and on the strength of their releases to date and a strong set supporting Grave Lines at Wharf Chambers back in February, it’s not entirely surprising. The demographic spans a fair range of ages, but is characterised by long-haired gothy / hippie women and bearded hipster blokes. I swear they follow me around.

With a lineup of two guitars, bass, and drums, they’re a fairly conventional rock act, but their blend of post-rock, shoegaze and a dash of sludgy metal, they’re far from conventional musically. The set begins with an ethereal intro. The songs are defined by delicate, detailed, musicianship and spectacular crescendos, but they’re also liable to pulling back when least expected. With rolling drums and soaring vocals, ‘Countenance’ exploits the quiet / loud dynamic to the max. Their allure is not in the volume or force, but the threat, as if they’ve got a lot in reserve, simmering beneath the surface. And with grace and dynamic range, they’re a uniquely exciting act.

Dystopian Future Movies

It’s nice to see Jo Quail play a set that doesn’t start before the doors open (as was the case when she supported both Mono and Boris last year). She’s an artist who’s hard to place, but on a bill between Dystopian Future Movies and Emma Ruth Rundle, her brooding, turbulent cello works are a wonderful fit. Rapping out military tattoos and rolling thunder and sounds like nothing on earth, her mastery of her instrument is only matched by the passion with which she plays it. She opens with ‘White Salt Stag,’ and puts everything into her playing: hers is a very physical performance, which sees her channel the music through her body, while she conjures drama and otherworldly sound, layered upon layer of sound. It’s not quite going to plan for her technically with the looping, but it keeps it real and exciting. The third track of her set is ‘Reya Pavan’, the bonus track on the forthcoming Exsolve vinyl, which she’s performed (and by her admission, fucked up) only three times previously. It’s dark, spare, and brooding. She plays ‘Mandrel Cantus’ next, and it a bass throb and thrust with subsonic grooves and mewling top strings draped over an industrial rhythm. She finishes with ‘Adder Stone’, and it’s completely captivating.

Jo Quail

From the off, Emma Ruth Rundle and her band create captivating shoegaze cathedrals of sound, the likes of which have the power to evoke deep emotions. Despite being a solo artist, this is very much a band effort. The drummer looks particularly young, but they’re a tight unit. Watching the audience responses, it’s evident that for some, this is a deeply moving, spiritual experience. ‘So, Come’ hits a peak of near-transcendence. If she veers into vaguely emo territory at times, it’s actually okay. I wouldn’t normally say that, but she carries off those softer, more accessible moments with sincerity and the bursts of noise that characterise her set convey more than words ever could. Her delivery is disarmingly straightforward. She’s not big on between-song chat and mumbles a bit. And that’s okay. We’re here for the songs.

Emma Ruth Rundle

They depart – and swiftly return – in a tempest of noise to perform an encore consisting of the new single ‘You Don’t Need to Cry,’ before Emma performs ‘Real Big Sky’ solo. It’s an incredible moment, and as the lights come up, many remain rooted to the spot transfixed by the performance they’ve just witnessed. And when you see that, you know you’ve seen something special.

Therapy? – The Brudenell Social Club, Leeds, 23rd September 2019

Posted: 24 September 2019 in Live
Tags: Leeds, makeup set, matinee, Review, The Brudenell Social Club, Therapy?

Christopher Nosnibor

It’s been nine months since Therapy’s set at the Brudenell was halted abruptly by an altercation at the back of the venue. They promised they’d come back and finish the set, and before tonight’s show proper, they made good on that promise with a matinee that picked up where they’d left off.

So, before playing a regular evening show, they opened the doors early for those who’d had tickets for the abridged show to play the remaining twelve songs on the set for free. And there was a more than respectable turnout, and it seems a fair few had purchased tickets for the gig proper, too: almost 30 years into their career, Therapy? still inspire real devotion and enthusiasm. Sometimes I forget just how big a deal they were to me back in the early 90s, but live they remind us just how many songs – bloody brilliant songs – hey have in their catalogue, and they don’t by any means all belong to their 90s heyday.

My mate joked that with just over nine months between the set’s start and finish – during which time children alive now have gone from conception to birth – it’s the longest set he’s ever seen (although neither of us have seen Bob Dylan, and I haven’t seen any recent Cure gigs). In exchange, I tell him about the new desk I’ve bought for my office at home, at which point I start to feel like the kind of old bastard who first saw Therapy? back in March ’94 while still in 6th form. But there’s a reason fans have stuck with Therapy? even after Semi-Detached. Not only did they rediscover their form and have spent almost two decades dispatching solid albums brimming with energy, sincerity and decent tunes, but they’re as passionate, enthusiastic and enjoyable live act as you’re likely to see.

Therapy?

It did feel a little strange arriving at the Brudenell for 6pm doors and a 6:30 prompt start, with time for only one pint and no support, and it also felt a little odd to see a band launch straight into a set that had been building in the first half to a climactic second half. But the fact they came on positively bursting with energy and enthusiasm and blasted through ‘Screamager’ as if they hadn’t started cold was enough to completely blow away any awkwardness. They followed with a swift one-two of a positively throbbing ‘Teethgrinder’ and a rip-snorting ‘Potato Junky’, and this opening trio alone justifies turning out for.

Despite having dispatched ‘Turn’, ‘Opal Mantra’, and ‘Trigger Inside’ in November, they’ve an embarrassment of riches in the major tunes stakes. ‘Stories’ and ‘Nowhere’, the former of which sees Andy spontaneously try out a new pedal combo to replicate the horn section on his guitar with a pleasing degree of success, are single cut highlights, but on a par are killer back-catalogue album selections ‘Stop it You’re Killing Me’, ‘Unbeliever’, and a furious rendition of ‘Knives’.

‘Crutch’ and set closer ‘Success? Success is Survival’ stand up well against the older material and show they’ve lost none of their knack for combining hefty riffs with magnificent melodies.

But Therapy? are so much more than the music in a live setting: they could have so easily played this as an obligation fulfilment, but no: bassist Michael Keegan grins from ear to ear and pogos for the duration and they make no concession to conserving energy for the full set to follow. Cairns is so affable he’s almost cuddly with between-song chat that rangers from bantz to rants, and as it’s drummer Neil’s birthday, leads the audience through some chants of ‘drum like a motherfucker’. He signs off with a sincere call for everyone to look after one another, and it’s a heart-warming, life-affirming experience. In dark days like these, we need good people, and Therapy’s unique brand of poppunknoise. And this time, no-one got hurt.

Territorial Gobbing – Sausage Chain

Posted: 27 August 2019 in Albums
Tags: Album Review, Experimental, Leeds, Noise, Panurus Productions, Sausage Chain, Tape, Territorial Gobbing, Theo Gowans

Panurus Productions – 27th August 2019

Christopher Nosnibor

When I lived in Glasgow, I was perplexed by the use of the word ‘links’ to refer to sausages for quite some time. Being from Lincolnshire by birth, I assumed (erroneously) that they were saying ‘Lincs’, but at the same time was aware that there was a certain logic gap in my thinking. It wasn’t until after about a year I discovered that ‘links’ were actually just what anyone else would call sausages, and the term was used to differentiate these from the ‘square’ sausages, or Lorne sausages, used in breakfast baps north of the border.

I hadn’t thought about this in years: after all, I left Glasgow in September 2004, and being vegetarian, never tried any square sausage – or delicacies like deep-fried back or white pudding as served by my local chippy, which also had deep-fried pizza, Mars Bars, and Crème Eggs on the menu. But despite the fact that unlike this album, it didn’t offer deep fried cash, the title of Territorial Gobbings’ latest reminded me.

The liner notes state that ‘Sausage Chain is yet more fresh, amorphous meat drippings from the Territorial Gobbing mechanical reproduction unit. The most disappointing member of Thank gives up on music, instead smearing tape up the wall, wailing into a dictaphone all while gnawing on a skip-salvaged record player… Bodyless body horror. Idiot-savant-garde. Daft ambience. Sausage Chain tries and fails to keeps it together, unravelling and scattering across the stereo field over its anxious run until only trace sausage grease remains.’

It’s a fair summary and sets reasonable expectations for the discordant hash of sound that the album contains, its five pieces not so much compositions or even sound collages, as a semi-random assemblage tossed together to create maximum disorientation and discomfort. Assuming that’s the objective, it succeeds.

‘Machine Learning to Scowl’ is as irreverent as the title suggests, and at the same time is a mess of bleeps, crackles, fizzes, tweets, and twitters before it bleeds into the primitively-captured scrape of mic feedback and distortion that is ‘Painted Teeth’. It’s only a couple of minutes long, but it’s a howling racket of the highest order, making no pretence of structure or anything other than being a noise for the sake of being a noise.

‘Caressed to Smithereens’, with six minutes of haphazard pings and thunks provides a more than adequate build-up to the album’s feature track, the eleven-minute ‘Unusual Achievements in Human Rights’, which fizzes and crackles in a grizzling hum of sparking electrodes and swampy circuitry meltdowns.

It’s a welcome addition to the rapidly-expanding catalogues of both the prolific TG (and yes, this set definitely contains as much gristle as it does meat, and probably a fair amount of rusk and fat) and the eclectic tape label Panurus Productions – and this is reason enough, surely, to check out their York show at the Fulford Arms on Thursday…

Doble Capa / Grey Hairs / Failyur / DJ Perro – Wharf Chambers, Leeds, 21st August 2019

Posted: 23 August 2019 in Live
Tags: alternative, DIY scene, DJ Perro, Doble Capya, Failyur, Grey Hairs, Grunge, guitars, Leeds, Motorik, Noise, That Fucking Tank, The Fall, Underground, Wharf Chambers

Christopher Nosnibor

Incredible. I arrived at a gig in Leeds with a dry shirt, thanks to it neither raining nor sweltering. And while it’s not exactly heaving in Wharf Chambers tonight, the eclectic (and international) lineup has drawn an interesting and curious crowd. I decide to take notes on my phone, and not to spend too much time on editing. This is a gig that’ about the moment, and it needs capturing.

DJ Perro, up first, isn’t a DJ, but a band from Mexico. The quintet perform the apex of busy math-rock and they’re buoyant with it. And kinda maybe how you’d imagine Mexican mathy post rock somehow. They clearly love doing what they do, and they’re astoundingly good at it. There’s a lot going on, to say the least. It makes my upper arms itch, and it makes my brain twitch. The songs are incredibly complex and incredibly tight and they’re a pleasure to watch. There’s something transportative and elating about watching five staggeringly good musicians, no egos, and some stellar compositions perfectly executed.

DJ Perro

Failyer have two synths players and play drony, grating synth noise with live drums from James Islip, gig booker, tonight’s doorman, and perhaps best known as one half of seminal noise duo That Fucking Tank, who I first stumbled upon supporting Whitehouse in Sheffield in maybe 2005. And the blew me away, while pissing on the headliners. It was the same night I discovered Kelham Island beers, so the fact he Duck& Drake where I stopped on the way was serving Easy Rider. Failyer’s sound is sort of Krauty Fall meets Suicide motorik noise. Sinewy, echoey, sparse, repetitive. The skinny singer sits for large segments of the set, leaping up to spit punky vitriol into a sea of rapid reverb while throwing shades of Pete Murphy. It’s an awkward but cool take on The Cramps meets The Fall meets DAF. Or something. They’re the best reminder I’ve seen in ages of why the Leeds underground is an awesome thing. And there is no success like Failyur.

Failyur

Grey Hairs are the reason I’m here and while I’d remembered they were good, I’d forgotten just how blindingly, blisteringly good. What’s cool about them is that they don’t give a shit about being cool. The press write-up says that ‘their third album Health & Social Care … [is] a scorching reflection on balancing your creative impulses against the commitments of impending middle age’. But the reality is more. Way more.

The riffs are all the grunge with hardcore punk moments high in the mix, and front man James transforms angst and anxiety into performance art: twisting his hands and arms around his face, twisting and pounding his palm against his forehead. covering his eyes and exuding a spectacular awkwardness: his presence is awkward, confrontational, and oddly appealing. It’s a performance you can get into – or otherwise be repelled by, depending on your position and life experience.

I could go home or even die happy already.

Grey Hairs

But then I’d have missed the awesome spectacle that was Doble Capa, the Spanish duo of whom the event’s write-up describe as being like That Fucking Tank but better. The pair certainly have that Tank vibe, and some serious energy. Thumping drums and what even the fuck is that four-string effort rammed through a trainload of effects (mostly distortion) to crank out a massively messed-up racket is the essence of what they do. It’s punkabilly blues noise making optimal use of a minimal setup. A blur of hair. A blast of noise. It’s compelling. And it’s great fun.

Doble Capa

And I go home happy, and don’t die.

Music:Leeds Live in the Square – 3rd August 2019

Posted: 4 August 2019 in Live
Tags: Bilge Pump, Cwtown, Dead Naked Hippies, Hobson, Leeds, Macig Mountain, Millennium Square, Music:Leeds, SCUM, Treeboy & Arc

Christopher Nosnibor

Shirt status on arrival in Leeds: moist, and particularly damp on the stomach and lower back. It’s another humid hot day and half the trains re screwed and the other half are packed solid. It’s going to take a lot of £5 pints of Amstel (well, it’s that or Strongbow or Strongbow Forest Fruits) just to replenish.

Sandwiched in between Black Grape, Cast, and Dodgy on Friday night and Leeds Pride on Sunday, this new local talent showcase pitched some incongruous alternative acts alongside a bunch of names I’d never heard of. But I figured the ones I had heard of were more than enough to justify the trip over from York, with Dead Naked Hippies being incentive to make for an early start.

As a band I’ve seen play a venue smaller than my living room to fifteen people, as well as regular reasonable gig spaces, their outdoor performance at Long Division in May proved that they’ve got the chops to go big. And Millennium Square is big. And as expected, the trio fill the stage with noise and presence. The dense, gritty-as-fuck guitar that also fills the space in the of bass is immense even outdoors. ‘Dead Animals’ provides an early afternoon family friendly crowd pleaser. Lucy Jowett’s in fine form as always, and ends the set prowling the front rows, her wanderings only limited by the length of her mic lead.

Dead Naked Hippies

Tommy Monaghan is pleasant but mediocre, with a static bassist and some bad shirts proving more interesting than his accessible pub gig fare that would probably be able to work its way into the charts given a suitably R1 friendly production.

I know it’s poor form to judge a band on appearance, but with the white shirts and rainbow braces and a sax/harmonica player in their numerous ranks, Hobson would never have been my choice. But their gutsy brand of country / folk rock is infinitely better than their presentation. That the singer’s teeth are whiter than the shirts is quite something, and they kinda spoil the ‘all originals’ pitch with a well-executed but uninspired rendition of ‘All the things that I have done’ by The Killers as a set-closer. It goes down well, though.

Tyrone Webster is probably Leeds’ answer to Craig David or something. Only his laid-back soulful pop packs some woozy sub-bass and trip-hop beatage. Final song and current single ‘Crippled’ is pretty meaty and emotionally wrought, though.

SCUM are barely old enough to have been born, but kick out fiery, politicised 3-chord shouty punk. The nagging repetitions hint at The Fall played with The fury of Black Flag. The songs all clock in at around a minute and a half and are played at 100mph, and despite the massive stage, they’re utterly fearless and totally ferocious. It’s a rush, and maybe there’s hope yet. These kids are certainly alright.

SCUM

Isaac Saierre’s slick brand of r’n’b was never going to do it for me, but people stuck out the onset of rain for his set brimming with covers. This, right here, reminds me why shit like The Voice is popular.

Afterwards, Girl Gang DJ Emily injected some alternative cred back into proceedings with a selection of indie, post-punk and riot grrrl that was most welcome.

Inching into the evening stretch, Victors arrive with an array of sportswear, beards, and man buns, looking like some kind of hipster math-rock E17 to roll out some smooth sonic wallpaper.

Thank fuck for Magic Mountain. The local supergroup, consisting of Tom Hudson (Pulled Apart by Horses) Nestor Matthews (Sky Larkin / Menace Beach) and Lins Wilson (who seems to have involvement in infinite projects, including Music:Leeds), kick out heavyweight psychedelic grunge bursts with energy and riffs galore without sacrificing melody or hooks. They’re tight on schedule and promise to power through the set – and that’s exactly what they do.

Magic Mountain

Treeboy & Arc’s spacey motorik post-punk has power and energy, and the scrawny guitarist (who’s sporting a Zozo T-shirt) races around the stage like he’s possessed and they thrash away maniacally. On paper, they offer nothing musically that hasn’t been done before, but to deliver it with such vigour is petty radical and entirely engaging. How have they bypassed me for so long?

Treeboy & Arc

The first (and last) time I caught Cowtown was supporting Oozing Wound at the Brudenell. I’d enjoyed their set enough, but they seemed an ill fit for a dirty US thrash band. In context of tonight’s lineup, they sit a lot more comfortably with their high-energy, jerky rockabilly indie. ‘Tweak’ mashes together The Ramones with the Bangles, and is fairly representative of what they’re about – which mostly is uptempo fun.

Cowtown

There’s something amusing about someone with a cut-glass accent on stage at a show celebrating Leeds music announcing headliners Bilge Pump. They slay, of course. But let’s unpack this a bit. Bilge Pump. Playing in Millennium Square. It’s crazy. But cool. So cool. Primarily active in the first decade of the new millennium, their angular noise rock found them a cult following and favour with John Peel, scoring a handful of Peel sessions, bowing out in 2010 with the EP The Fucking Cunts Still Treat Us Like Pricks.

Bilge Pump

No two ways about it, comeback album We Love You is a blinder, and recent shows have been pretty special. But, not to denigrate their achievements, they’re very much a smaller venues band. And yet here they are, on this immense stage with the biggest crowd of the day – and it’s really quite substantial, especially considering they’re up against Flipper at the Brudnell – and they absolutely kill it. Joe O’Sullivan’s guitar is blistering as the throws squalls of noise – and himself – in all directions. It’s a blast – somewhat surreal, but a blast. And ultimately, Bilge Pump headlining in Millennium Square on a Saturday night in August encapsulates everything that’s ace about the Leeds scene.

Uniform / Bad Breeding / Whipping Post / Soft Issues Temple of Boom, Leeds, 23rd July 2019

Posted: 27 July 2019 in Live
Tags: Bad Breeding, Grindcore, Hardcore, Industrial, Leeds, Live Review, Meta, Soft Issues, Temple of Boom, Thrash, Uniform, Whipping Post

Christopher Nosnibor

Arriving at gigs in Leeds drenched is becoming not so much a habit as the norm for me by the looks of things. But unlike recent jaunts across the border to West Yorkshire, where I was caught in torrential precipitation, we’re in the middle of a heatwave. The humidity is off the scale, it’s rammed like a cattle freighter, and I’m not convinced the air conditioning is functioning in the vestibule I find myself standing. Consequently, I disembark with my shirt completely saturated ahead of what I know will be a warm gig in Leeds’ best venue for all things metal. And hot on the heels of Thou and Moloch on the same bill, tonight’s is another absolutely killer lineup.

Things are off to an abrasive start with harsh electronic duo Soft Issues. Gnarly electronic noise fizzes from the PA before hammering beats kick in. Samples fire off all over between the distorted, pain-filled screaming vocals and they’re switching patch-leads with mechanical precision as the mess of treble and pulsating lower-range synth oscillations grind forth. It’s relentless, repetitive, and brutally industrial, and there may be hints of NIN but this is way, way harsher, the obliterative wall of anguish-filled noise closer to Prurient than anything. It hurts.

Soft Issues

Whipping Post’s goatee-sporting bassist may be wearing an REM T-Shirt, but there’s no Shinny Happy People vibe here. He churns out some strong, strolling basslines that provide the solid foundations for some gritty hardcore racket reminiscent of Touch and Go’s early 90s roster. Theirs is a sound that’s nicely angular, dirty, and dense, with lurching rhythms and no shortage of attack.

Whipping Post

If things are already warm (and I’m so grateful cans of Scrumpy Jack are only £2.50 as I’m sweating it out faster than I can drink it), then co-headliners Bad Breeding really turn up the heat, blasting in at 150 miles per hour with their brand of raging grindy hardcore. A band whose album liner notes and essays posted on their website reference Mark Fisher and American Psycho while dissecting the politics of Brexit while substantiating points with figures on GDP and a host of verifiable statistics, there’s some qualifiable intellect beyond the blizzards of rage they spew out on stage. And the force with which they do it is monstrously intense and gives rise to some energetic – but extremely well-natured – moshing. And yet again, I’m reminded that the nicest audiences are to be found at the most extreme shows.

Bad Breeding

For a number, Bad Breeding are the headliners, and fair play. They were storming, and moreover, Uniform are a whole other kind of intense nasty. Their debut, Wake in Fright was a non-stop shoutfest with a pounding drum machine and raw, ragged guitar assault fused into a nightmarish sensory overload. The Long Walk added live drums to the mix, but in retaining that raw, unproduced approach, the sound didn’t change radically, but instead stepped things up a notch. So this was a band I’d been absolutely busting to see live.

And fucking hell, they know how to deliver. Perhaps it’s because the studio work has a live, immediate feel that on stage they replicate it so well – only with the added bonus of being able to see the sweat and the whites of their eyes from the front rows of a venue like this. The set explodes with ‘The Walk’, and it’s nothing short of devastating. Bloody, brutal, raw, it excavates the depths of nihilism and paranoia. They burn straight into ‘Human Condition’, the album’s second track, and it’s pulverising: everything’s overloading, and Michael Berdan’s wide-eyed, rage-spewing delivery is as menacing as hell. Everything blurs and melts with the heat and the blistering intensity of Uniform’s wall of noise. To complain it’s a bit one-key is to miss the point completely: Uniform savagely drive at that seem of gnarly, shouty rage that takes the template of snotty punk and distils it into something that’s so potent it could make you want to puke.

Uniform

They piledrive home the end of a scorching and frankly punishing set with – I think – a brutal rendition of ‘Alone in the Dark’. I’m already lost. There’s no encore and we filter out. I’m drained, a husk, and so, so happy.

Thou / Moloch / Bismuth/ Vonnis – Temple of Boom, Leeds, 19th June 2019

Posted: 21 July 2019 in Live
Tags: Bismuth, Doom, Intense, Leeds, Live Review, Metal, Moloch, Sludge, Stoner, Temple of Boom, Thou, Thrash, Vonnis

Christopher Nosnibor

And yet again, after a soaking on my way to see Interpol in Leeds a fortnight ago, the heavens open to deliver a truly tropical downpour, a torrent of fair biblical proportions in stepping out of the station. It’s way to wet to have my phone out to sat-nav to the pub I’ve arranged to meet a mate in, so I take hasty refuge in The Scarboro Hotel.

It’s not hyperbole or dramatic scaremongering to say that this is climate change in effect. It’s been stiflingly hot, we’ve experienced high winds – which is why I left my umbrella at home: Poundland brollies and strong gusts don’t go together – and light showers and some flash downpours. But this precipitation isn’t so much a cloudfall as a monsoon, and as frustrating and mood-despoiling the soaking is, the bigger picture is that this is a sign of things to come. JG Ballard’s 1962 post-apocalyptic sci-fi novel The Drowned World is rapidly looking like future reportage rather than speculation.

It’s a good thing I’m heading to Temple of Boom in my drenched state. Live music invariably proves itself to be a mod-lifter, or at least the best conduit to a window of escapism, and never more than a night of full-throttle metal. It’s a genre I’ve come to appreciate almost exponentially over the last decade after spending years completely disinterested and dismissive. The irony that I considered metal somehow juvenile and primitive isn’t lost as I realise I’ve grown to grasp the sheer diversity of the – infinitely fragmented – genre, as well as the benefits of untrammelled catharsis as a form of therapy.

The tip I’d had ahead of the show suggested Vonnis were pedlars of fairly standard grindy thrash, and musically, this is fundamentally true. It’s all in the delivery, and I’m wondering a day on if their front-man’s antics were the result of drunkenness, insanity, or a combination of the two. Their Facebook bio records a history of ‘dislocated shoulders or open leg fractures’ and a ‘disregard for any kind of personal safety’, and they deliver on that. Tonight’s set found this guy piling up (and falling off) monitors, stumbling wildly, stripping from his boiler suit to socks and boxers and ending the set on the flor in front of the stage with his head in a bin. The whole thing was demented, and was a real horrorshow car-crash of a performance – but it was utterly compelling.

Vonnis

Bismuth are compelling for all the right reasons, bashing out some monumental noise with drums and bass. By which I mean BASS. Arsequaking bass. Head-shredding bass. Immense bass drones that sound like Sunn O))) and Earth circa Earth 2. Simultaneously. Bass channelled through a pedal board the size of a cruise liner to the point it no longer sounds like bass. An age separates the trike of every chord, every explosive, punishing beat. Bismuth grind it out, low, slow and heavy, but with the full frequency spectrum: bass that sounds like a full band lineup with everything up to eleven, or even twelve.

Bismuth

Tanya Byrne’s vocals range from a delicate and emotionally-charged melodic to full-blooded howl of pain: it’s all integral to Bismuth’s sound and intensity, and the set concludes with Tanya out in the audience, on her knees, shrieking and howling into a wall of feedback. It feels like the purest catharsis, and the entire room is on edge and close to breaking to bring down a devastating finish.

Whereas Bismuth’s sound is textured, detailed, and atmospheric, Moloch go all out for blunt force trauma. Lumbering riffage provides the backdrop to rasping guttural anguish. There’s something about the vocals, which register in the higher regions, and the way they contrast with the shuddering downtuned sludgefest. There’s also the complete lack of pretence or even any real kind of show involved.

“Hiya, we’re Moloch,” says Chris Braddock as he takes the mic. Cue a wail of feedback before everything crashes in and continues to grind away at a gut-churning crawl for the next forty punishing minutes.

Moloch

With three guitars dominating the six-piece’s instrumentation, Thou have texture and density completely covered. And despite the fact they’ve been going some fourteen years with only two changes to the lineup, they still appear remarkably youthful. The ever-informative Encyclopaedia Metallum locates them in the bracket of ‘Sludge/Drone/Doom Metal’ and lists their lyrical themes as ‘Despair, Revolution, Societal collapse, Death.’ This does nothing to convey the intensity of their albums or the kind of performance they deliver – or, moreover, the nonchalance with which Bryan Funck – wild-eyed and grey-bearded – delivers his velociraptor vocal scream.

Thou

It should be harrowing, hellish, but is precisely the opposite. To witness a band so finely-honed, channelling everything into a powerful and relentless piledriving assault is a beautiful and uplifting thing: elating, life-affirming. As they thunder through an immaculate set, I find I’m no longer in the room and everyone else has melted away. There is nothing but this moment, in which I find my mind is empty and I am floating, detached, wired into the music alone. Time stops and the sound becomes everything.

Thank – Think Less

Posted: 4 July 2019 in Singles and EPs
Tags: Beige Palace, Industrial, Irk, Leeds, Noise, Sing Review, Super Luxury, Thank, Think Less

Buzzhowl Records / EXAG

I caught Thank way back in December 2016, supporting Oozing Wound at The Brudenell in December 2016. Having a gig to review never fails as an excuse to leave a works night out early: it’s up there with a family emergency, only way cooler. Obviously, working with a bunch of straights who listen to whatever’s on the radio and have next to no concept of ‘alternative’, the sphere in which I exist and the music which is the focus of my ‘other’ job is completely beyond them,

The review of that night described Thank as something of a ‘“supergroup” collaboration between members of various bands, including Irk and Super Luxury’, clocking Irk’s front man Jack Gordon on drums, and Freddy Vinehill-Cliffe, bassist with Beige Palace, providing off-kilter vocals. And a lot of Day-Glo. On reflection, it’s probable that not a single member of Thank had been born when Day-Go was all the rage first time around. I remember my eye-watering acid yellow tennis socks with fondness. As I also now remember that show, meaning that a new release is most welcome.

‘Think Less’ prefaces the arrival of their second EP, ‘Please’, set for release in October, and finds another Leeds noise luminary, Theo Gowans adopt a permanent place in the latest lineup. It’s a wild frenzy of lo-budget industrial funk that throws together Cabaret Voltaire, Throbbing Gristle and early Nine Inch Nails into a blender, tossing in a messy vocal with an unashamedly northern accent and spraying the resultant snarling mess all over a chunky and deeply infectious cyclical groove that’s an instant earworm. Raw, ragged, jagged and all the better because of it, it’s cause to get excited.

PURPURA / Stable / Early Hominids / Black Antlers – CHUNK, Leeds, 9th June 2019

Posted: 12 June 2019 in Live
Tags: Black Antlers, Chunk, Early Hominids, Electronica Experimental, Harsh, Leeds, Live Review, Noise, PURPURA, Stable

Christopher Nosnibor

3pm on a Sunday afternoon may seem like an odd time for a noise gig, but one of the many great things about this rehearsal space that sometimes puts on live music is that being truly independent, it can do whatever the fuck it pleases. Noise aficionados tend to be undercatered for in general, and while it’s fair to say the Leeds scene is pretty healthy, even the most nocturnal of creatures have crawled out of the woodwork for this afternoon’s session of sonic torture. And being in the middle of an industrial estate, they don’t have to worry about the neighbours, meaning they can really crank it up at CHUNK.

The thing about a small scene is that you get to know or otherwise at least recognise people, and while we’re all misfits, we’re all misfits together, and the atmosphere – as promoted by the organiser, Theo, who incudes a ‘no bigots!’ stipulation on the poster – is inclusive, accommodating, and friendly. And we’ve all brought our own booze. I exchange dialogue with strangers and friends alike, and it’s incredibly relaxed. There’s a lot to be said for the fans of more extreme music – mostly that most of them are really decent people.

Duo Black Antlers are making their first appearance here and there’s no information to be found about them anywhere. Thunderous echoing beats and stray bleeps coalesce to form a dreamy but solid backdrop to emotive vocals buried in all the reverb ever. Some crisp electropop is massacred by wall of echo and murk which has an intensity when delivered at ear-shredding volume. Their singer is given to performing some form of interpretive dance when she’s not pacing and singing, and has a strong yet understated presence. It’s a stunning debut, and the warm reception is well-deserved.

Black Antlers

Long, spacey tones, rapid bleeps and blistering noise, paired with slow bass beats and explosive sampled snare cracks dominate a dizzying, disorientating wall of digital noise that flies off in all directions. This is Early Hominids. They know all the most brutal, pain-inducing frequencies, with blistering treble and squalling feedback howling from the speakers. Bleeps, blips, twitters, wow and flutter are crushed into an excruciating wall of distortion for what feels like a torturous eternity. They endlessly dick about with swapping bits of kit and moving wires, and while this isn’t a conventional ‘rock’ performance, there is an element of deconstructed performance to something like this.

Early Hominids

My notes become shorter as the afternoon progresses: partly because I hadn’t really considered that 7% Polish lager on an afternoon might have quite an effect, but moreover, because it becomes increasingly difficult to consider note-taking when you’ve got brutal noise blasting in your face and you’re so immersed in the experience that documenting it seems vaguely futile. Because as a fan, it’s about being present, feeling it. Process and assimilate later – if at all. And this is something you feel even more than you hear, where sound takes on a physicality.

Glasgow’s Stable serves up looping echoes, woozy synths and relentlessly thudding uptempo beats… Hints of Suicide, only nastier glitchier, treblier performed by a guy with a mask with two faces… Slightly disturbing… Harsh. Noise. Stop / Start. Brutal. Unintelligible vocals.

Stable

Headliners PURPURA are not so harsh, but definitely crank out a noise wall. It’s punishing, and it hurts. Burrs of blistering treble break through the speaker-breaking noise.

PURPURA

It feels far later than the hour, and my brain and ears feel they’ve been thoroughly assaulted when I leave. And it’s been great: if ever a lineup reflected the diversity of the brad umbrella of ‘noise’, while hosting a show in a great space with a great vibe, it’s this.

Aural Aggravation

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Posts Tagged ‘Leeds’

Helmet – The Key Club, Leeds, 5th October 2019

Territorial Gobbing – Sausage Chain

Doble Capa / Grey Hairs / Failyur / DJ Perro – Wharf Chambers, Leeds, 21st August 2019

Music:Leeds Live in the Square – 3rd August 2019

Uniform / Bad Breeding / Whipping Post / Soft Issues Temple of Boom, Leeds, 23rd July 2019

Thou / Moloch / Bismuth/ Vonnis – Temple of Boom, Leeds, 19th June 2019

Thank – Think Less

PURPURA / Stable / Early Hominids / Black Antlers – CHUNK, Leeds, 9th June 2019