Dret Skivor – 7th June 2024
Christopher Nosnibor
Legion of Swine trotted out for a few live exhibitions in the last few months, but Live at Plourac’h documents a show which was something of a one-off among these, with the performance having taken place in a studio (Soundfackery Studios in Brittany) and streamed live, followed by a Q&A, with audio from both featuring here.
Like many noise acts, T’ Swine tends to keep performances brief. The brevity is, in may respects, part of a tradition on the scene, and while Masonna’s explosive three-minute sets take this to an extreme – and why not? Noise is all about extremity, and finding new limits to push beyond. It’s all about the impact of the short, sharp, shock. Leave them wanting more – those who haven’t fled the room, hands clasped to their ears, while holding back the urge to vomit, anyway.
Even in the absence of the old performance aspects of Legion of Swine shows, whereby Dave Procter would be anonymous in a lab coat and latex pig mask, which means we get to witness the bearded, bespectacled northerner looking quite unassuming, sonically, LoS remains a formidable force.
Opening with strains of feedback and scratching buzzes of distortion, the set holds a single, undulating note of wailing, droning feedback noise for what feels like an eternity, the frequencies and tone changing but still offering nothing more than feedback for the first five minutes of the set. The level of strain and the tension builds, but still, holding back, holding back, testing the patience as well as the eardrums. To have been in a room with this, at gig volume would hurt. Then, unexpectedly, things drop in intensity, and it’s a heavy hum, a long, low, whine that nags and throbs.
As a noise sculpture, this is a restrained, patient piece which hovers within the parameters of a very limited range in terms of frequencies and particularly texturally, manipulating feedback in the mid- and lower-ranged for the bulk of the sixteen-minute duration.
Even recorded, with the separation from the actual event, the frequencies and volume are conveyed clearly here, and there’s a gut-trembling grind to the lower-end oscillations. The release notes summarise the kit as a ‘trusty metal roasting tin and a couple of effects pedals’, and whatever the truth of the facts around the gear involved – which I suspect would have been minimal – the racket created is significant.
There’s a long, long fade to nothing.
There is a certain amusement in the fact that the Q&A lasts twice the duration of the set itself. Dave speaks engagingly on the technical processes of his use of contact mics, and, yes a baking tin, and the mechanisms involved in changing pitch and creating feedback, and so on. It’s a nerdfest that Steve Albini would have been impressed by. He discusses room space, PA, body temperature. ‘Every time, it’s a different thing’, he says.
His recollection of room temperatures and their effect on sound is remarkable, and the dialogue is illuminating. Like so many noise artists, there is a yielding to the random, to circumstance, eventuality, accepting that no two performances will be alike as acoustics and the way sounds interact is spontaneous and unpredictable.
The interview is interesting and wide-ranging, but to discuss and dissect it at length here feels like a job for a longer, more academic discursion.
This is a niche release: that’s a given. Side one will inevitably receive more plays. But both warrant same time. Listen, and learn. Enjoyment is probably optional.
AA
Aural Aggravation 