Sunday, 1 March 2015

One Alauda

I just watched a film called Octopus 2.  I hadn't watched the first one, but I managed to follow the plot anyway. This review, from the latest Nightshift, features the typo I made, "Glad Plugin".  The editor either didn't notice the missing E, or just assumed it was something cool he'd never heard of.




SKY:LARK/ SCREEN WIVES/ MASIRO, Idiot King, Cellar, 7/2/15

Depending on where you cast your gaze you can see any number of representation of underground music in the media: glossy molls swigging bottled lager and singing along with the next big thing; gorgeous soft-focus festival folkies snapping each other on smart phones; rock-crazed ne’er-do-wells spiralling into drug abuse; Swindon.  But nothing sums it up for us better than the sight of a man dressed only in his pants crawling round a basement stage, trying to gaffer a bass drum back together.  Either side of this dose of literal DIY music, in a necessarily curtailed set, London’s Screen Wives twist out an angular, Fugazoid hardcore that kicks like a hoof to the solar plexus, but has room for cheeky, witty little trills and paradiddles.  The songs are brief, the band hissing short bursts of noise into the venue like a demented Glade Plugin.

Before that, Oxford’s Masiro had treated us to one of their displays of sonic science. The twitchy, multi-part structure of their music is always impressive, like a metal-flavoured Don Caballero, and even like Primus without the schoolyard japes, but they always manage to bring in some melodic or textural originality to save us from mere academic cleverness.  The set is like a spiderweb from a fly’s point of view: intricate, beautiful, sludgy, and completely deadly.

Intricate being one thing we wouldn’t accuse Sky:Lark of trying for.  Over a bed of unwavering feedback, the trio thrash through dense repetitious snarling grooves something like Motorhead with a krautrock fixation.  The best moments of the set are when the vocals bawl and screech over two note unriffs like Finnish minimalists Circle crossed with Megadeth, and the worst moments are when they stop.  There’s the odd snatch of fuzzy melody, but in essence theirs a brief onslaught of brash noise, to finish a night of intriguing, exciting music...and not an iPad or a crackpipe in sight.

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