Friday 7th August - The Croft, Bristol
Somebody had just been stabbed as we turned the corner to the Croft, a swarm of police littering the curb-side as a wide eyed Deej assured us it wasn’t fatal. Inside Charlie was sound checking, looked up from bowing that battered tin and asked if it was loud enough; a resounding yeah came back…
Her set was lovely, more chantress than recent, a lot more vox this time round, the guitar softer, less pointed, fringed in a coy noise that seemed reluctant to let rip… I think this was frustrating her a tad, leaving a starker / disjointed glow to the set, but I enjoyed it all the same as discernable words escaped the drone in syllablised patterns and everything slipped in and out of focus behind closed eyes…
the Etruscan beauty of that biscuit tin...
Rita Lynch was all spiky guitar punk, with added drums from Saturation Point’s banger of flesh (least I think it was)… her vox was crumpled, hard edged, spreading the dis-sat like refrigerated sushi revenge… stabbing at the guitar, that killer drum-work pure incendiary as her face folded into the words like somebody that wanted to get even…
the conjuror's set notes
Deej started all moan ghost, a coat of hobo garbage carving up the speakers, Robinson Cru-sonics, heavy sludge atremble with itchiness. A penetrating hex coaxed out of keyboards, slow doom like guitar gestures and fx-twisting with the thunder stick finale being slightly drowned out, left to dwell in the trebly otherness of scattering sugar cane…
The last act, The Fauns, were probably more conservative in comparison, but by no means a bore as that fuzzy interplay and those buried girly intones gave out a pleasing shoegazery high… reminded me of a certain 4ad band back in the day when the label was a bastion of quality.
Somebody had just been stabbed as we turned the corner to the Croft, a swarm of police littering the curb-side as a wide eyed Deej assured us it wasn’t fatal. Inside Charlie was sound checking, looked up from bowing that battered tin and asked if it was loud enough; a resounding yeah came back…
Her set was lovely, more chantress than recent, a lot more vox this time round, the guitar softer, less pointed, fringed in a coy noise that seemed reluctant to let rip… I think this was frustrating her a tad, leaving a starker / disjointed glow to the set, but I enjoyed it all the same as discernable words escaped the drone in syllablised patterns and everything slipped in and out of focus behind closed eyes…
the Etruscan beauty of that biscuit tin...
Rita Lynch was all spiky guitar punk, with added drums from Saturation Point’s banger of flesh (least I think it was)… her vox was crumpled, hard edged, spreading the dis-sat like refrigerated sushi revenge… stabbing at the guitar, that killer drum-work pure incendiary as her face folded into the words like somebody that wanted to get even…
the conjuror's set notes
Deej started all moan ghost, a coat of hobo garbage carving up the speakers, Robinson Cru-sonics, heavy sludge atremble with itchiness. A penetrating hex coaxed out of keyboards, slow doom like guitar gestures and fx-twisting with the thunder stick finale being slightly drowned out, left to dwell in the trebly otherness of scattering sugar cane…
The last act, The Fauns, were probably more conservative in comparison, but by no means a bore as that fuzzy interplay and those buried girly intones gave out a pleasing shoegazery high… reminded me of a certain 4ad band back in the day when the label was a bastion of quality.
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