London
10 November 2025
And this time they’ve brought Jessica Moss along for the ride. She takes the stage with a little speech about how the world’s shit and that’s why coming together in music is important, and chucks in a “Free Palestine” at the end of it, so I’m kinda inclined to like her before she even starts. But when she does it’s also great.
Violin, bells, vocals and tape loops (although she mainly uses the loops to augment her excellent playing, rather than just playing a couple of notes and relying on nested melodies. The message is “none of us are free until we all are free”, and it’s a particularly important one right now, and beautifully delivered. One thing that’s notable is just how respectful the audience are. This is delicate music, actually quiet in places, and for an audience who have come for volume to remain silent throughout is impressive to say the least. We’ve all been to rock gigs where some twat’s talked all the way through the quiet bits, not realising how loud they’re being. And if any audience could have the excuse that they’re hard of hearing and have to shout, it’d be a Swans one. But no, it’s all quiet except at the bar, where it can’t be avoided. More of this, please, audiences. If us noise-lovers can embrace the quiet, then so the fuck can you.And then it’s time for Swans, and quite frankly you can talk all the way through if you want, I don’t care because I won’t be able to fucking hear you. They start loud and then a few minutes in, Michael Gira gives the band a four-count and you know what’s coming. Often with Swans I get the feeling that they’ve just turned on a tap, and pure sound comes gushing out until you’re drowning in it.
But despite their well-deserved reputation, they’re not really a noise band, especially not in this form. Seven extremely accomplished musicians, and a sound tech who knows what they’re doing, can and do create the most extraordinarily multi-layered music, simultaneously complex and primal, relentless driving rhythms underpinning some truly beautiful harmonies. I mean, when your frontman’s playing an acoustic guitar, you know this isn’t just noise for the sake of it. But yes, it is very loud. And I suck at wearing earplugs. Normally with a high-volume band I’ll think “ah, they’re gonna build, I’ll wait until it gets REALLY loud before I put them in”, and then they build so slowly that I don’t notice until I’ve already fucked my ears. This time I’m ready, and put them in at the start. But, a bit like Icarus or Lot’s wife, I can’t resist the temptation to keep taking them out to see what’s happening at the dangerous end of things. I mean, surely my eardrums deserve a chance to gaze upon the face of God just a little, as a treat?They play six songs over the space of two and a half hours, but it’s never boring for a second. Honestly, I’ve seen half-hour gigs that have dragged way more. Some are new and have never seen an album (“The End of Forgetting”, “Newly Sentient Being”), some otherwise. But the individual songs are less important than the whole work.
I mean, there’s no getting away from the crunchy bass onslaught of “A Little God In My Hands”, but aside from that, the thing about Swans is not just that it’s great live music, it’s actually LIVING music. Songs mutate and evolve, improvised elements sticking and becoming part of the canon. In fact, Swans evolve to such a degree that I reckon given a long enough tour, one of their songs is infinitely more likely to develop sentience than any fucking LLM. It’s music about everything and nothing, in a very literal sense. The all-encompassing scope of the universe at war with the eternal void (I mean, they named the album The Great Annihilator after a black hole, FFS). Intimately personal poetry and ominous abstract reflections against a backdrop that is essentially all of existence in all its beauty and horror. There’s some strong connective tissue between Swans and the writing of Thomas Ligotti in that regard, cosmic horror in its truest sense. (Indeed, if Ligotti hadn’t already used it for a book, you could imagine The Conspiracy Against The Human Race being the title of a Swans album), although where Ligotti sees all this as a justification for non-existence, Swans these days are the exact opposite, creating something almost religious.Gira has said this tour will be the last outing of this “big sound” version of Swans. And while he’s said similar things before, dude’s in his seventies, and is still pushing every bit of himself into the music with the same intensity — not just playing, but conducting the band. Not so much a frontman as a band leader in the old jazz sense, bringing elements in and out with a wave of his hand or an icy glare, and extracting every bit of passion there is from his hard-worked bandmates. Quite frankly it looks exhausting, though as always Norman Westberg just looks chill as fuck throughout, which must be an effort in itself.
They’re genuinely something unique and wonderful, and we’ll miss them when they’re gone. So my advice is don’t miss them while they’re here. (Incidentally, when they draw to a close, my cold has gone. I’m healed!!! OK, so it comes back the next morning along with a hangover, but it was nice while it lasted. And anyway. I’m seeing them again tonight, so it’s all good).-Words: Justin Farrington-
-Pictures: Dave Pettit-
