Menschenfleisch, Rajinder, Cementimental vs BBBlood, Kylie Minoise, Team Brick at the Croft Bristol Fri 22nd May
Menschenfleisch were first up and haemorrhaged seriously darkened noisettes, spasms of electronic surge and sustain… bludgeoning the senses, silhouettes of clanking mantelpieces filled with buckled shapes and numb trajectories, skull kommandos of grainy geometrics and a good deal of yelling… bleach washed… fistfights of chimps, carving out corridors of bloated pornographies… Greg’s set-up was causing him problems, but this failed to blight the performance…
Rajinder started with a deep drum and guitar refrain, the beat giving out solid militia shivers, the guitar creeping around it apologetically…settling down into a satisfyingly thrashed coda, then, out of nowhere, he suddenly jettisoned his guitar to the floor and switched tactics… Spiking it into the amp, he reverted to tinkering with the fedback results. Interspersed with vocals… effect crystals hissing out rack stretched angel feathers, frequencies rippling… just as Rajinder was about to barrage bomb the place in meaty slaughter, the waves just seemed to crumble away and dip out of sustain in slowly muted gargles. …Sighing, he quickly reverted to playing guitar with the drum sticks, chopping it up into no waver bleeds, deep creases curling round it’s echoes and top-end string chimes, all semi-abstract riffery and rolling thunder… really liked this section…
The finale was a shoe-gazer string scrub, grated out over phantoms of fm static …I could hear spidery dialogue being forced through sonic fingers, just as I did that snowy February…
Cementimental vs BBBlood were a primal power electronics showdown, textural swamp of pierced squelch and bassy thud, the walls shaking… think they even dislodged a dodgy filling in the process… Crunchy mouthed, I was revelling in those drowned casio slabs and gnawed whatevers… arms, twisting the commotion in tasty cross hatches and perverse squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeelk zzzxt uik jikeeel krystallised sickness.
The place was pitch black for Kylie Minoise’s set, two torches wrapped round his hands, his lower face covered bandit style, naked torso…
I was surprised by his minimal kit, especially compared to the other acts’ spaghetti ridden tables, just a couple of hand-held contacts, some sort of tone generator and a single effects pedal, all gaffer taped to the tables he was standing on… but boy he carved out a menacing atmosphere.
The torch lights reacted to the frequency squall, becoming wobbling eyes, or arching streams of motion mimicking the sounds, stray lights caught glimpses of flesh in motion, tortured poses, mind etched in the semi-darkness…
This was super concentrated, a deprivation tank intensity of swarming hornets, shadowed torso writhing around, silhouetted by flung torchlight. Crawling the floor, a scraping noise to spasmed body…broken by occasional cup handed screams …reminded me of Sudden Infant’s antics as sound was transformed into physical theatre. For the finale, it was a back crawl out of the door, only the flashing lights left to play with the audience’s faces in the gloom…fucking brilliant!
Team Brick started with some beautiful bassoon (I’m a bit rusty on my classical instruments), breeding on the demise in exuberant serifs… the drifts looped, and sucked into themselves, quickly falling into a vocal display of chopped up effects… chanted perspectives turned into heavy bomber drone and spitting debris and yell… then flipped into mind mandalas, all angular with sibilant fag end smouldering …a triptych of microphones, each transforming his vox in differing ways…the Kraftwerk vo-corded combings, merging nicely across the spreading Gnostic hum… The raped cymbal giving out muted cries, then abandoned… for screaming rant, and noise accumulation bowing out on Latin scriptings… if I wasn’t so skint I would have bought his album…
Menschenfleisch were first up and haemorrhaged seriously darkened noisettes, spasms of electronic surge and sustain… bludgeoning the senses, silhouettes of clanking mantelpieces filled with buckled shapes and numb trajectories, skull kommandos of grainy geometrics and a good deal of yelling… bleach washed… fistfights of chimps, carving out corridors of bloated pornographies… Greg’s set-up was causing him problems, but this failed to blight the performance…
Rajinder started with a deep drum and guitar refrain, the beat giving out solid militia shivers, the guitar creeping around it apologetically…settling down into a satisfyingly thrashed coda, then, out of nowhere, he suddenly jettisoned his guitar to the floor and switched tactics… Spiking it into the amp, he reverted to tinkering with the fedback results. Interspersed with vocals… effect crystals hissing out rack stretched angel feathers, frequencies rippling… just as Rajinder was about to barrage bomb the place in meaty slaughter, the waves just seemed to crumble away and dip out of sustain in slowly muted gargles. …Sighing, he quickly reverted to playing guitar with the drum sticks, chopping it up into no waver bleeds, deep creases curling round it’s echoes and top-end string chimes, all semi-abstract riffery and rolling thunder… really liked this section…
The finale was a shoe-gazer string scrub, grated out over phantoms of fm static …I could hear spidery dialogue being forced through sonic fingers, just as I did that snowy February…
Cementimental vs BBBlood were a primal power electronics showdown, textural swamp of pierced squelch and bassy thud, the walls shaking… think they even dislodged a dodgy filling in the process… Crunchy mouthed, I was revelling in those drowned casio slabs and gnawed whatevers… arms, twisting the commotion in tasty cross hatches and perverse squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeelk zzzxt uik jikeeel krystallised sickness.
The place was pitch black for Kylie Minoise’s set, two torches wrapped round his hands, his lower face covered bandit style, naked torso…
I was surprised by his minimal kit, especially compared to the other acts’ spaghetti ridden tables, just a couple of hand-held contacts, some sort of tone generator and a single effects pedal, all gaffer taped to the tables he was standing on… but boy he carved out a menacing atmosphere.
The torch lights reacted to the frequency squall, becoming wobbling eyes, or arching streams of motion mimicking the sounds, stray lights caught glimpses of flesh in motion, tortured poses, mind etched in the semi-darkness…
This was super concentrated, a deprivation tank intensity of swarming hornets, shadowed torso writhing around, silhouetted by flung torchlight. Crawling the floor, a scraping noise to spasmed body…broken by occasional cup handed screams …reminded me of Sudden Infant’s antics as sound was transformed into physical theatre. For the finale, it was a back crawl out of the door, only the flashing lights left to play with the audience’s faces in the gloom…fucking brilliant!
Team Brick started with some beautiful bassoon (I’m a bit rusty on my classical instruments), breeding on the demise in exuberant serifs… the drifts looped, and sucked into themselves, quickly falling into a vocal display of chopped up effects… chanted perspectives turned into heavy bomber drone and spitting debris and yell… then flipped into mind mandalas, all angular with sibilant fag end smouldering …a triptych of microphones, each transforming his vox in differing ways…the Kraftwerk vo-corded combings, merging nicely across the spreading Gnostic hum… The raped cymbal giving out muted cries, then abandoned… for screaming rant, and noise accumulation bowing out on Latin scriptings… if I wasn’t so skint I would have bought his album…
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