I'm moving furniture tonight, no time to chat.
ARIEL PINK/ BELONG/ THE WARM/ DIVINE COILS – Vacuous Pop, Port Mahon 7/6/06
Whilst we confess to not being able to tell the difference between Divine Coils and The Holiday Stabbings, we’re very happy to be back in their company whoever they are. Tonight their drone-centred music is based on bowed cymbal and heavily treated guitar playing (which seems to be a throwback to their old Fencott Disaster hardcore days in terms of hair waggling if not sound), and it flows over us in one long reverberant wash. What’s interesting is how much variation they can find in their explorations: last time we saw them it was in a forest of sound, full of peaks and troughs, whereas this time they’ve opted for a single sticky wave of feedback inflected tones that lays heavy on the stifling air. It may have stumbled a couple of times, but this improvised set is a pleasure. Richard James once went surfing on sine waves; tonight Divine Coils are surfing on molasses.
With two buzzing keyboards and a sprightly rock drummer, it’s easy to dismiss Tokyo visitors The Warm as a simple distillation of a droning synth band, a sort of Divide N By (X). A couple of numbers in, however, and their cheeky tunes and Juno 60 rave arpeggios start to creep in, whilst the drumming increases in intensity, and it’s clear that The Warm have a lot of ideas simmering away. They’re at their best when they find a little space, where the vocalist stops shouting and drops into a clunky hip hop style to let the humming synths do the talking. Surprises might not be high on their agenda, but there’s more than enough passion, wit and flagrant use of Korg’s wibbliest buttons to make up for that. Highly recommended.
Belong take us back to the textural immersion of Divine Coils, if not so successfully. Leaking white noise from laptop and guitar, they might be compared to Fennesz...but only in the way that every rock band in Wantage could be compared to Black Sabbath. Of course, it’s all lovely in its way, and it’s hard to dislike huge swathes of warm granular noise in any situation, but, like the projected films of light reflecting on water, it all feels uninspired and a teensy bit trite. Belong’s music can engulf you like a warm bath, which is a nice way to spend 25 minutes, but who ever gave a bath a good review?
Ariel Pink appear to consist of a keyboard player, a (surprisingly decent) bassist, some sort of hideous Camp Cobain vocalist figure in a grotesque cardigan, and some backing tracks of breezy 80s AM pop. Well, that’s OK. Everyone likes breezy AM pop, don’t they? Well, not when it sounds like it’s played by tipsy bears wearing oven gloves, no. It’s hard to put into cold hard text just how badly this show fails, but unless you relish the thought of Tiffany castoffs played by Twizz Twangle’s deafened offspring you’d best steer clear. The live mixing element is potentially interesting, as parts of the song drop out unexpectedly whilst random noises are pushed to LED burning limits, but it really needs a better sound system to have any hope of working. The irony is that the songs, so far as we can tell, are pleasant (if featherlight) little toetappers but they’re so subsumed in wilful ineptitude, trying to pick out the compositions is like a tedious game of aural Where’s Wally. These are either spectacularly clumsy musicians or self-conscious experimenters who are trying too hard in all the wrong areas. Vacuous Pop, indeed...
Showing posts with label Divine Coils The. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Divine Coils The. Show all posts
Tuesday, 13 April 2010
Saturday, 6 February 2010
Null Points
There are some good points in this review, but I feel it's too long and the tone is wrong. But it's still better than anything you could come up with, isn't it? Minnow.
KK NULL & Z’EV/ THE EVENINGS/ THE DIVINE COILS – Oxfordbands, The Wheatsheaf 12/4/06
Collaborative music-making is often described as “instinctive”, especially if it involves some degree of improvisation. However, after seeing The Divine Coils (essentially a deluxe Holiday Stabbings), a redefinition of “instinctive” is required. Picture four performers hunched over a sprawl of instruments which takes up half of the venue’s floorspace, batting at them, bashing them, scraping them and twisting them in a manner that looks so exploratory it calls to mind the apes at start of 2001: A Space Odyssey. Not that comparing them to monkeys is supposed to be parodic or dismissive, as tonight they produce music of hypnotic delicacy that should be applauded.
Those searching for melody and structure will have gone home downheartened by the performance, but anyone with an ear for the infinite subtleties of drones and textures will be very content with this extended improvisation. Over roughly half an hour guitars are attacked with tools, effects pedals are manhandled and piles of maltreated cymbals are tossed around the room - we’re guessing this is one band without a lucrative Zildjian sponsorship deal. OK, perhaps the music is a tiny bit climax happy, and one can almost sense the performers mentally regrouping for a few moments after particularly tumescent passages, but the organic flow is in general deeply impressive, calmly wafting listeners along (and those expecting a Wolf Eyes meets Merzbow racket will have been surprised by the beauty and warmth of this gig, despite the crashes and shrieks). A recent Holiday Stabbings review claimed that their music is overly complex, “like multi-dimensional string theory”, but I’d argue quite the reverse. The Divine Coils don’t make particularly intellectual music, and again that isn’t a criticism: despite its abrasive edge, this performance is a sensual experience, like an immersion into a warm bath. Oh, alright then, a bloody hot and dangerously turbulent bath that may contain piranhas and shampoo bottles full of hydrochloric acid.
The sleevenotes to Miles Davis Live At The Carnegie Hall have a clear idea of the best thing about live jazz: “mistakes”. A bit of a one-liner, perhaps, but it’s true that creative art ought to ride the borderline between inspiration and disaster, and that there’s nothing so inspiring as watching an artist take a chance. One could apply this dictum to The Evenings, a band that never seem content to rest and always strive to present the listener with something fresh. The downside of this approach, of course, is that not every performance is a bankable success, but this is more than offset by the excitement of discovering what they’ll do next. That a band whose music is based around prerecorded rhythm tracks can approach performance in so many different ways is a minor miracle. So, tonight’s gig is something of a B- when compared to earlier triumphs, but it sees them approach their material in a healthy new light once again.
The recent departure of Stuart Fowkes on electronics has left The Evenings as a fourpiece. Perhaps unsurprisingly in a band that’s now 50% bassists, the music has become that much more solid and serious. It’s not the “folk metal” we were promised online, but it builds around relentless kraut basslines and unstoppable row-yer-bastards drumming like dub for molluscs. In fact, when Mark Wilden eventually launches into one of his signature kit workouts, the effect seems suddenly revolutionary and shockingly light-footed. It’s like Gene Krupa auditioning for Killing Joke. Only “Fizzy Piss” refers back to the old Bentley Rhythm Arse electropop playfulness, the rest of the set is an impressively sturdy lumbering beast. There may be the usual peccadilloes – Seb’s keyboards could do with a little more restraint, and it’s a pity Mark doesn’t have the vocal prowess to match his impassioned delivery – but one of Oxford’s best bands have raised eyebrows once again…not least with the serious volume of the set, which easily drowns out The Divine Coils! We’ve been listening to The Evenings for years now, and the fact that we’re still excited to be guessing what they’ll do next is comfortably the best tribute we can give.
The Wheatsheaf is bombarded with the sound of a dog licking Rice Krispies from a close-miked blanket under Shitmat’s sofa. That’ll be KK Null starting off the final set, then. His position on the stage means we have no idea exactly how he’s making his sounds for the entirety of the gig, but we’re guessing it involves lots of electricity and plenty of buttons. Before long he’s joined by improvising percussionist Z’ev and a vast array of toys for a lengthy and exhausting workout. It’s incredibly difficult to describe purely abstract noise performances, and this duo make The Divine Coils’ tonal wash sound like Debussy by comparison, but despite some brief flashes this gig is pretty disappointing.
The main stumbling block is the apparent lack of communication between the performers. There are some glorious moments, but it feels like they’re reached by pure chance, before being discarded. Perhaps this is evidence of an exciting aleatory approach, but it sounds more like two musicians who aren’t sparking off each other too well. Highlights include a passage marrying gorgeous rubbed gong tones with electronic bird song over spooky theremin lines, or the sound of someone playing Defender next to an imploding junkyard, but there’s equally lots of sonic mulch and water treading on display. Tellingly, Z’ev starts off knocking away at one end of his percussion rack and, hey ho, he’s made it exactly full circle 55 minutes later. One gets the impression he would have doggedly worked his way around his kit in the same manner whatever Null had been doing, and conversely we’re not convinced Null’s paying much attention to the percussion.
In other settings we’re sure these musicians could knock out something special – just check the list of their collaborators - but tonight it feels rather flat. A disappointingly one-dimensional end to what promised to be the most exciting Oxfordbands booking this year.
KK NULL & Z’EV/ THE EVENINGS/ THE DIVINE COILS – Oxfordbands, The Wheatsheaf 12/4/06
Collaborative music-making is often described as “instinctive”, especially if it involves some degree of improvisation. However, after seeing The Divine Coils (essentially a deluxe Holiday Stabbings), a redefinition of “instinctive” is required. Picture four performers hunched over a sprawl of instruments which takes up half of the venue’s floorspace, batting at them, bashing them, scraping them and twisting them in a manner that looks so exploratory it calls to mind the apes at start of 2001: A Space Odyssey. Not that comparing them to monkeys is supposed to be parodic or dismissive, as tonight they produce music of hypnotic delicacy that should be applauded.
Those searching for melody and structure will have gone home downheartened by the performance, but anyone with an ear for the infinite subtleties of drones and textures will be very content with this extended improvisation. Over roughly half an hour guitars are attacked with tools, effects pedals are manhandled and piles of maltreated cymbals are tossed around the room - we’re guessing this is one band without a lucrative Zildjian sponsorship deal. OK, perhaps the music is a tiny bit climax happy, and one can almost sense the performers mentally regrouping for a few moments after particularly tumescent passages, but the organic flow is in general deeply impressive, calmly wafting listeners along (and those expecting a Wolf Eyes meets Merzbow racket will have been surprised by the beauty and warmth of this gig, despite the crashes and shrieks). A recent Holiday Stabbings review claimed that their music is overly complex, “like multi-dimensional string theory”, but I’d argue quite the reverse. The Divine Coils don’t make particularly intellectual music, and again that isn’t a criticism: despite its abrasive edge, this performance is a sensual experience, like an immersion into a warm bath. Oh, alright then, a bloody hot and dangerously turbulent bath that may contain piranhas and shampoo bottles full of hydrochloric acid.
The sleevenotes to Miles Davis Live At The Carnegie Hall have a clear idea of the best thing about live jazz: “mistakes”. A bit of a one-liner, perhaps, but it’s true that creative art ought to ride the borderline between inspiration and disaster, and that there’s nothing so inspiring as watching an artist take a chance. One could apply this dictum to The Evenings, a band that never seem content to rest and always strive to present the listener with something fresh. The downside of this approach, of course, is that not every performance is a bankable success, but this is more than offset by the excitement of discovering what they’ll do next. That a band whose music is based around prerecorded rhythm tracks can approach performance in so many different ways is a minor miracle. So, tonight’s gig is something of a B- when compared to earlier triumphs, but it sees them approach their material in a healthy new light once again.
The recent departure of Stuart Fowkes on electronics has left The Evenings as a fourpiece. Perhaps unsurprisingly in a band that’s now 50% bassists, the music has become that much more solid and serious. It’s not the “folk metal” we were promised online, but it builds around relentless kraut basslines and unstoppable row-yer-bastards drumming like dub for molluscs. In fact, when Mark Wilden eventually launches into one of his signature kit workouts, the effect seems suddenly revolutionary and shockingly light-footed. It’s like Gene Krupa auditioning for Killing Joke. Only “Fizzy Piss” refers back to the old Bentley Rhythm Arse electropop playfulness, the rest of the set is an impressively sturdy lumbering beast. There may be the usual peccadilloes – Seb’s keyboards could do with a little more restraint, and it’s a pity Mark doesn’t have the vocal prowess to match his impassioned delivery – but one of Oxford’s best bands have raised eyebrows once again…not least with the serious volume of the set, which easily drowns out The Divine Coils! We’ve been listening to The Evenings for years now, and the fact that we’re still excited to be guessing what they’ll do next is comfortably the best tribute we can give.
The Wheatsheaf is bombarded with the sound of a dog licking Rice Krispies from a close-miked blanket under Shitmat’s sofa. That’ll be KK Null starting off the final set, then. His position on the stage means we have no idea exactly how he’s making his sounds for the entirety of the gig, but we’re guessing it involves lots of electricity and plenty of buttons. Before long he’s joined by improvising percussionist Z’ev and a vast array of toys for a lengthy and exhausting workout. It’s incredibly difficult to describe purely abstract noise performances, and this duo make The Divine Coils’ tonal wash sound like Debussy by comparison, but despite some brief flashes this gig is pretty disappointing.
The main stumbling block is the apparent lack of communication between the performers. There are some glorious moments, but it feels like they’re reached by pure chance, before being discarded. Perhaps this is evidence of an exciting aleatory approach, but it sounds more like two musicians who aren’t sparking off each other too well. Highlights include a passage marrying gorgeous rubbed gong tones with electronic bird song over spooky theremin lines, or the sound of someone playing Defender next to an imploding junkyard, but there’s equally lots of sonic mulch and water treading on display. Tellingly, Z’ev starts off knocking away at one end of his percussion rack and, hey ho, he’s made it exactly full circle 55 minutes later. One gets the impression he would have doggedly worked his way around his kit in the same manner whatever Null had been doing, and conversely we’re not convinced Null’s paying much attention to the percussion.
In other settings we’re sure these musicians could knock out something special – just check the list of their collaborators - but tonight it feels rather flat. A disappointingly one-dimensional end to what promised to be the most exciting Oxfordbands booking this year.
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