When Phew starts it’s a slow hypnosis of slippery sounds, her voice recoiling a merry-go-round full of twisty vapours. This bamboo beat is introduced, whipped in rhythmic rat tails and trapped moth zither. The sounds are rich, roll into each other with stretchy squishability I totally warm to.
live review
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The last night of a short UK tour for the rejuvenated Prolapse found us making our way on a miserable evening up the Gloucester Road in Bristol to The Golden Lion pub, a proper old English corner boozer with a 200-ish capacity room at the back. There was a good vibe in the place on arrival and with three bands on the bill, a sense of expectation.
That all-important hypnotic unison that each attentively drives towards until the density manifests, literally just appears and things lock into a gristled repeat full of vaporising trajectories. In this case it’s almost industrial -- a buzzing solid wasping your head with its cavorting sibilance. A miraged montage, where you’re not sure who’s doing what, all reverberating in delicious tribal splashes.
The encore gives some of the release the audience have been craving, a delirious bagpipe-led trance concoction, which drifts just the other side of the line between Dionysian and line-dancing. Even the band seem a little surprised, as if this had come from somewhere they hadn’t previously been prepared to go. The King Arthur is a bit like that sometimes.
A slowly evolving space full of tapering shapes and vortexed growth. Mr York adding flute to the modular carpet Steve Davis and Kavus Torabi supplied. A rich and heady concoction, edged in feathery floating viewpoints and ashened in peppery paper cuts.
Why they aren't playing to at least a few hundred people per night is a complete mystery, but they clearly enjoy their peripatetic lifestyle... enjoying the enthusiasm of those people that made an effort on a Tuesday night. It was one of the best things I have seen in a long time; the joy, the intensity, the love for the songs and respect for the audience all added up to an unforgettable evening and long may they continue.
A show of shimmery frets and arrowed harmonics carpeted in the subtle ebb of swirling effects. The bayoneted brilliance of Tom Greenwood’s words hazily biting that drumless flow.
Made me wish I was more familiar with what was being played, but to be honest it didn’t really matter, for now I was caught up in the muscled savagery of it all. That all-in passionate and sweat-drenched prism of sharded lyrics and tons of wah-waded and drone-coated interest. A driven emphasis greedily keeping you up close and personal, crowned by this wedging might of double drums.
... the reason it works, always has worked, and just keeps working is that Guitar Wolf, like Motörhead, don’t fuck with the formula. And, like Motörhead, they take rock’n’roll, strip it back to its basics, and do it faster, louder and, most importantly, COOLER than anyone else.
...it’s also Desertfest weekend, so I’m off to sunny Camden Town to see the world’s finest collection of Orange amps and hear some of the finest crushingly loud music available.
The arresting hugeness of a projected bird's eye breaks the darkness of the stage as Wardruna’s harmonising voices rise to a regularised patter, punctured by a defiant shell-like crunch. A sound that grows on a waltzing mirage becoming equally huge as the silhouetted band is suddenly thrown into illuminated focus.
Boy did Laibach bring the drama … the first third of the show cherry-picking their back catalogue, starting with a mangled noise-fest with lots of slanted perspectives and controlled chaos. A scampering scrapyard of debris and screeching guitar, the drummer coming out from behind his kit to supply an eerie air-raid drone from a spinning air-pipe as the keyboardist’s chords conjured a host of bent up, shattered shapes.
Stereocilia was here for the launch of his latest album Phases, but joining him on the bill was Deb Googe of My Bloody Valentine and Thurston Moore's band fame, and local soon-to-be legends Ex Agent.
Bristol 10 January 2025 Support for The Jesus Lizard‘s eagerly awaited trip to The Fleece in Bristol came from that city’s own purveyors of mutant post-punk hip hop, Lice. Having not seen them since their extraordinary set at the Bristol Psych Fest back in the summer of 2017 where it was like The Beastie Boys fronting The Birthday Party. Since then, they seem to have picked up a […]
With their creative stock having risen again off the back of last year’s Music For KIDS archival release on Domino and this year’s surprisingly strong new studio album Walk Thru Me on Joyful Noise, it’s perhaps no surprise that John Davis and Lou Barlow’s reunion as The Folk Implosion has continued so wholeheartedly for a quite lengthy UK tour.
Massive drums, double bass and a shiny grand piano meant The Necks were crammed into what remained of the stage. A physically crowded space that suited the band’s intimate interlock.
Man, the energy was insane — breathtakingly direct, leading to me totally losing it (maybe to the gritty pump of “Devoción”?), my body all salvo-daggered, head-flinging abandon as the electronics twerked and tasered. My kinda dance music for sure ...
London 24 October 2024 It was rather a dull day to traipse halfway across London for a gig, but I had high hopes that Goat were going to bring some life and spectacle to the evening. First though, a few words on the venue, the East End’s Troxy in Limehouse. This is the second time I’d been here after last year’s Swans gig and it’s clear that this […]