Right then. The only good thing about typing this guff out again, is that it involves sitting down and I have a huge blister on my foot.
Bet you thought I was going to say something crude about sailors, didn't you?
And so Sunday's feast begins, with somewhat blearier eyes, but just as much excitement. I'll admit to having seen (and reviewed) The Sunnyvale Noise Sub-Element twice previously, and been left uninspired, but since Stuart Fowkes informed me they were probably the two worst gigs he'd ever played, I was happy to give them another shot. This proved wise, as SNSE kick off the day's festivities with a clattering fanfare. Despite a couple of technical hitches the rhythm tracks are crunchily glorious, sounding something like a crackling longwave radio broadcast of a rabble of origami fiends let loose in a Zildjian warehouse. On occasion the guitar parts that overlay them feel like a mildly stodgy attempt to translate studio music into the live arena, but when the penultimate tune seems to be a series of baroque variations on the "I Wanna Be Your Dog" progression, these concerns are put away for another day.
N0ught play an ornate jazz-metal-math hybrid, and they do so incredibly loudly. They've often been described as "difficult" but I actually find them very pleasant to listen to: like a Pollock painting or a dense forest it's impossible to take in all the details individually, but this doesn't necessarily transalate into a challenging experience. Nothing today quite has the sheen and power it did a mere week before when N0ught supported The Fall, but one still feels in the presence of one of Oxford's great art bands. And come on, it's on four pm on Sunday - we're knackered and we've only got to listen to this music, let alone perform it.
Speaking of art rock, what would N0ught sound like if all the musicians were replaced by minor characters from the Super Mario universe? A little like Quack Quack, I'd wager. Their jazzy, slightly krautische instrumentals are played in a crinkly, faltering style and might be the type of thing you'd hear if miniature Neu! members came free with Kinder Surprise. Whilst there is a minor air of the self-congratulatory about it all ("Look! I'm playing my keyboard slightly badly! What do I win?"), they do have some surprises up their sleeves, including the penultimate number, which very strangely threatens to turn into "Morning" from Grieg's first Peer Gynt suite. Quack Quack are hard to categorise and most satisfying.
Call your band Lords and you'd better be good, it's too much of a tempting target if not. Luckily, this Nottingham troupe delivers the goods, along with some unexpected oddments that must have accrued in transit. If you cut "Sweet Home Alabama" into tiny pieces and threw it to some guitar wielding wolves, you might just end up with the opening track. Things continue in a similar vein for thirty minutes, Lords repeatedly sounding like the crippled ghost of a roadhouse boogie band being pummelled by a hardcore wrecking crew, or a post-Shellac trio meeting Beefheart's "China Pig" head on in a messy collision. "Makes you want to dance like a Russian," claims the programme; makes you want to drink like a Texan, too, such is the intermittently exposed bluesy underbelly.
Continuing a recent trend in the larger dance labels of realising that full bands can often get far more toes tappiung than pasty technogeeks, Ninja Tune have picked up Liverpool's Super Numeri. They perform one extended piece with free jazz sax and guitar throwing high end skreeks over a chugging funk backing. At times it does sound like a firy new hybrid of styles, but mostly it just sounds like a busload of seagulls divebombing The Exeter Hall's Sunday jam session. The only proper dud of the weekend.
I thought we might have exhausted the post-rocking guitar instrumental angle by now, but Billy Mahonie spring into life proving me thoroughly wrong once again. Unlike their peers at the festival, Billy's pieces sound like wordless songs, rather than unkempt opuses, and are all the more successful for it. They may not be The Shadows by any means, but there is something of taut funk generals The Meters about the elastic snapping of the guitar lines and the clipped urgency of the rhythm section. The third number (details uncertain from my vantage point, due to the band forgetting to ask for a microphone!) almost sounds like "Take Me Out" might if Franz Ferdinand had spent more time in James Brown's boot camp and less in their publicist's waiting room. Like I say, brains, great hooks and more funk savvy in one snare crack than Super Numeri could manage with a coachload of spangly vests, all adding up to make Billy Mahonie a fierce contender for best set of the festival.
Like a palette cleansing sorbet, there's a wonderfully refreshing quality to Scout Niblett, and it was an audacious move by the promoters to put such a simple act in this slot. Scout herself is on guitar and vocals, knocking out incredibly simple blues riffs with fascinating restraint. It's the sort of distillation of great rock music that PJ Harvey would sell her catsuit to be able to make. When Shellac's Todd Trainer joins her on drums, his relentless style should cut across her songs, but somehow the power of Trainer's parts heightens the purity. It does no harm that he's the kind of superbly natural drummer that you'd happily watch hit a haddock against a brick in 4/4 for twenty minutes. Perhaps there's a hint of contrived coyness about Niblett's music, most evident in her approach to sexual lyrics, but overall she has a huge command over the audience...which comes as a surprise to those of us who have watched her hare round the venue all day in a flourescent jacket looking like a distracted lollipop lady.
In complete contrast to Four Tet's wire strewn table, Luke Vibert is mostly using a laptop balanced on a beer crate. Hell, he doesn't even have a mouse! His set could prompt the typical questions - Is he playing or DJing? Is he doing anything at all? Is it actually him? - but I for one couldn't give a fuck. Listen, I was twelve for most of 1988, and used to tune into fuzzy radio stations, wishing I could sneak off to an acid night. Seeing Vibert, a man whose recordings have brought huge pleasure over the years, playing out some spiralling acid squalches is like the culmination fo a long love affair. For less romantic (read "drunk") people, I'm sure it was just a pleasingly danceable end to a wonderful weekend. If you want details, I'll let you know that Vibert dropped a bit of Kraftwerk, FSOL's evergreen "Papua New Guinea" and Squarepusher's incredible "My Red Hot Car" into the mix, but beyond that I'm far too tired and happy to turn in a meaningful review.
So, a glorious weekend, all in all. Maybe Phil from Fell City Girl is right, and in 2010 Audioscope will be a huge international festival. Somehow, however, I doubt that he's correct in predicting that Bon Jovi will be playing. I like to think we can trust these promoters a little more than that.
Showing posts with label Sunnyvale Noise Sub-Element. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sunnyvale Noise Sub-Element. Show all posts
Thursday, 10 June 2010
Thursday, 18 March 2010
Les Mix
This is the second review in which I've used the phrase "Suicide's plastic Elvis shimmy"! I think I just forgot the second time that I'd put it in a review already. I've also knowingly described Baby Gravy's sound as reminiscent of "Gwen Stefani's striplit mall pop" twice, and that was just because I like the sound of it. Sue me. I'll give you 100% of the income from both reviews, if you like.
SMILEX - SMILEX VS OXFORD (Quickfix Recordings)
Remix albums are alwaysa hall of mirrors for the listener, especially the reviewer, unless they're pretty deeply au fait with the styles of all involved: to whom, exactly, is one listening at any given moment, the mixer or the mixee? Smilex amplify the problem, because they haven't exactly released that much material in their own right as yet. In our case, there is an immediate difficulty, in that although we've enjoyed Smilex shows on a few occasions, they tend to blur into one big, damp maelstrom of rock noise and exposed flesh, laced once or twice with a few drops of blood. To be frank we don't recall precisely which song is which. None of this makes the LP any less enjoyable, but it does make the review process something of a minefield. Plus there's only a finite number of times we can type the words "Smilex remix" without it starting to look like joke Latin.
But enough of our problems. You could certainly imagine worse subjects for the remix treatment than Smilex, as their music has an immediately recognisable character, but is pretty simple in construction, all wham, bam thank you ladyboy pseudo-ma'am. This undoubtedly makes the pieces easier to deconstruct.
It's fascinating to see the different approaches on display, some adorning and accessorising the original music, while others rip it to shreds and stitch it back together in grotesque new forms. The first two mixes on the CD, perhaps wisely, choose the former option, boywithatoy sticking beats behind "Quickfix", and The Evenings turning "Sex 4 Sale" into a frenzied chipmunk cabaret. Conversely, The Gentleman Distortionist somehow manages to find a hands aloft, whistle crew pleaser in 16 second miniature "Kidz Klub 666", whereas The Beta Prophecy turn "P.V.C." into a crunchy industrial plod, something like Aphex Twin's "Ventolin" played at half speed. Most extreme of all is Sunnyvale's completely abstract attack on "Noize", which has Smilex reincarnated as tiny worms, crawling through the dense loam of some dank forest floor. It's absolutely superb, but the question remains whether this is a Smilex remix, or a new track sampling a few Smilex moments. A pointless question, we suppose. The Young Knives' mix of "She Won't Get out Of Bed", is one of the most intriguing on offer, surprisingly managing to sound very little like Smilex or TYK, merging a hissy disco pulse with touches of Suicide's plastic Elvis shimmy.
Ultimately Smilex Vs Oxford is rather an odd proposition if you;re looking for that elusive Smilex album, as most of the acts tend to pull the material too far from its source (and if you can tell that the three mixes of "Spike My Drink" are based on the same composition in a blind trial, you should probably just walk straight to the Oxford Music Faculty and pick up your doctorate). Having said that, as a listening experience, this is a wonderful twisted record, which works excellently as a snapshot of what Oxford's more leftfield electronic experimenters are up to: in fact, if there were something from nervous_testpilot and a representative from the My Initials Club label here, we'd almost have a prospectus for Oxford bleepery. Oh, and it's for charity too, raising money for the John Radcliffe's new Children's Hospital...though this record is likely to send most children into hiding under the bedclothes, wailing for the bad men to go away. On reflection, not enough reviews end like that.
SMILEX - SMILEX VS OXFORD (Quickfix Recordings)
Remix albums are alwaysa hall of mirrors for the listener, especially the reviewer, unless they're pretty deeply au fait with the styles of all involved: to whom, exactly, is one listening at any given moment, the mixer or the mixee? Smilex amplify the problem, because they haven't exactly released that much material in their own right as yet. In our case, there is an immediate difficulty, in that although we've enjoyed Smilex shows on a few occasions, they tend to blur into one big, damp maelstrom of rock noise and exposed flesh, laced once or twice with a few drops of blood. To be frank we don't recall precisely which song is which. None of this makes the LP any less enjoyable, but it does make the review process something of a minefield. Plus there's only a finite number of times we can type the words "Smilex remix" without it starting to look like joke Latin.
But enough of our problems. You could certainly imagine worse subjects for the remix treatment than Smilex, as their music has an immediately recognisable character, but is pretty simple in construction, all wham, bam thank you ladyboy pseudo-ma'am. This undoubtedly makes the pieces easier to deconstruct.
It's fascinating to see the different approaches on display, some adorning and accessorising the original music, while others rip it to shreds and stitch it back together in grotesque new forms. The first two mixes on the CD, perhaps wisely, choose the former option, boywithatoy sticking beats behind "Quickfix", and The Evenings turning "Sex 4 Sale" into a frenzied chipmunk cabaret. Conversely, The Gentleman Distortionist somehow manages to find a hands aloft, whistle crew pleaser in 16 second miniature "Kidz Klub 666", whereas The Beta Prophecy turn "P.V.C." into a crunchy industrial plod, something like Aphex Twin's "Ventolin" played at half speed. Most extreme of all is Sunnyvale's completely abstract attack on "Noize", which has Smilex reincarnated as tiny worms, crawling through the dense loam of some dank forest floor. It's absolutely superb, but the question remains whether this is a Smilex remix, or a new track sampling a few Smilex moments. A pointless question, we suppose. The Young Knives' mix of "She Won't Get out Of Bed", is one of the most intriguing on offer, surprisingly managing to sound very little like Smilex or TYK, merging a hissy disco pulse with touches of Suicide's plastic Elvis shimmy.
Ultimately Smilex Vs Oxford is rather an odd proposition if you;re looking for that elusive Smilex album, as most of the acts tend to pull the material too far from its source (and if you can tell that the three mixes of "Spike My Drink" are based on the same composition in a blind trial, you should probably just walk straight to the Oxford Music Faculty and pick up your doctorate). Having said that, as a listening experience, this is a wonderful twisted record, which works excellently as a snapshot of what Oxford's more leftfield electronic experimenters are up to: in fact, if there were something from nervous_testpilot and a representative from the My Initials Club label here, we'd almost have a prospectus for Oxford bleepery. Oh, and it's for charity too, raising money for the John Radcliffe's new Children's Hospital...though this record is likely to send most children into hiding under the bedclothes, wailing for the bad men to go away. On reflection, not enough reviews end like that.
Saturday, 29 August 2009
Pieces Of Ape! Pieces Of Ape!
This is quite readable for one of my old BBC reviews, I'd say. I'd go so far as to call it "passable".
I spoil you, I really do.
PART CHIMP/ 65 DAYS OF STATIC. THE SUNNYVALE NOISE SUB-ELEMENT, One Louder, Wheatsheaf, 14/2/03
Dynamics. Now there's a contentious issue. Should a performance be a rollercoaster of volume and tempi, or is that crass theatrics? John Lee Hooker played the same song his whole career, and is perpetually mesmerising, whilst a Christina Aguilera show leaps from rock to rap to ballad, creating nothing but a variegated tedium.
Dynamics figure high on Part Chimp's agenda. The first track bounces from arid single note deserts to furry blocks of noise every few bars; later a Valentine's Day track (allegedly) flips between grinding churn and throbbing blast with gusto. Imagine a whole Mogwai album condensed into three minutes, and that's roughly what we hear...until the shouty vocals pop up, that is. To my mind, when playing the fuzzy noise card, rock growls and drum fills actually detract fro the experience, providing a mundane reference point in the assault, and noticeably diluting the sonic immersion. Having said that, Part Chimp are obviously a rock band, not the Glenn Branca Ensemble, so maybe I'll shut up. All in all, a not unplesant monolith of sound. But then, monoliths shouldn't really be pleasant, should they?
Conversely, 65 Days Of Static don't worry about dynamics so much, the guitars and bass strumming along over dirty pre-programmed loops and hisses. There are two problems with this.
Firstly the sound is terrible (nobody's fault, really, it's a good night for the gremlins), so the programmed sections are lifelessly flat. The whole thing's also strangely quiet (One Louder, you say?), so the band consequently sound like some kids jamming whilst an Asian Dub Foundation record plays next door. Secondly, the live element is sadly obvious and uniform in tone (some odd jerky moments excepted), particularly the bass. Which is a pity as the prerecorded parts - what we hear of them - are pretty effective, combining drum & bass with 70 Gwen Party's filthy shimmy.
"This is the part where you dance," they shout at the static crowd. No, this is the part where you go home, lock the guitars away, turn the machines back on and start layering those rhythms. Then we dance.
Ironically, The Sunnyvale Noise Sub-Element's programmed sections sound great, but now we can't hear the rest of the band. And something keeps breaking down half way through the songs. Therefore, this truncated set probably doesn't do them justice, so let's be brief. The samples and splutters are enticing (if a teensy bit PWEI), and some of the random skronks and squeaks are superb, but, as with 65 Days, the guitarists seem redundant, chugging along in the background. More noise, fewer guitars: Anyone for The Sunnyvale Noise Sub-Sub-Element?
I spoil you, I really do.
PART CHIMP/ 65 DAYS OF STATIC. THE SUNNYVALE NOISE SUB-ELEMENT, One Louder, Wheatsheaf, 14/2/03
Dynamics. Now there's a contentious issue. Should a performance be a rollercoaster of volume and tempi, or is that crass theatrics? John Lee Hooker played the same song his whole career, and is perpetually mesmerising, whilst a Christina Aguilera show leaps from rock to rap to ballad, creating nothing but a variegated tedium.
Dynamics figure high on Part Chimp's agenda. The first track bounces from arid single note deserts to furry blocks of noise every few bars; later a Valentine's Day track (allegedly) flips between grinding churn and throbbing blast with gusto. Imagine a whole Mogwai album condensed into three minutes, and that's roughly what we hear...until the shouty vocals pop up, that is. To my mind, when playing the fuzzy noise card, rock growls and drum fills actually detract fro the experience, providing a mundane reference point in the assault, and noticeably diluting the sonic immersion. Having said that, Part Chimp are obviously a rock band, not the Glenn Branca Ensemble, so maybe I'll shut up. All in all, a not unplesant monolith of sound. But then, monoliths shouldn't really be pleasant, should they?
Conversely, 65 Days Of Static don't worry about dynamics so much, the guitars and bass strumming along over dirty pre-programmed loops and hisses. There are two problems with this.
Firstly the sound is terrible (nobody's fault, really, it's a good night for the gremlins), so the programmed sections are lifelessly flat. The whole thing's also strangely quiet (One Louder, you say?), so the band consequently sound like some kids jamming whilst an Asian Dub Foundation record plays next door. Secondly, the live element is sadly obvious and uniform in tone (some odd jerky moments excepted), particularly the bass. Which is a pity as the prerecorded parts - what we hear of them - are pretty effective, combining drum & bass with 70 Gwen Party's filthy shimmy.
"This is the part where you dance," they shout at the static crowd. No, this is the part where you go home, lock the guitars away, turn the machines back on and start layering those rhythms. Then we dance.
Ironically, The Sunnyvale Noise Sub-Element's programmed sections sound great, but now we can't hear the rest of the band. And something keeps breaking down half way through the songs. Therefore, this truncated set probably doesn't do them justice, so let's be brief. The samples and splutters are enticing (if a teensy bit PWEI), and some of the random skronks and squeaks are superb, but, as with 65 Days, the guitarists seem redundant, chugging along in the background. More noise, fewer guitars: Anyone for The Sunnyvale Noise Sub-Sub-Element?
Thursday, 13 August 2009
Damo Better Oxford Blues
Bit of a waffle this one. I think it's because I enjoyed the set, but couldn't say why. Saying whyis kinda my job, so that's no excuse, I appreciate.
Damo has come back to Oxon a couple of times, with different bands, but sadly I've not managed to see any of those shows, so the final question remains a mystery.
DAMO SUZUKI/ SUITABLE CASE FOR TREATMENT/SUNNYVALE NOISE SUB-ELEMENT, Oxfordbands, The Cellar, 24/1/06
Although it took me a while to get converted, I now believe that Sunnyvale Noise Sub-Element are one of the best bands in Oxford. But that doesn't automatically translate into one of the best live bands in Oxford. Their backing tracks are wonderful, all angular electro, thudding techno and thick sonic mulch, but the live instruments don't always add a huge amount, generally consisting of simple, fractured basslines and sudden guitar thrashes. Trouble is, you're not sure you want the live instruments to do much more as it would spoil the musical balance and swamp the lovely crunchy rhythms. Let's just say that Sunnyvale gigs are great but there isn't always much to differentiate them. Oh, except that Damo Suzuki joined them for two numbers tonight. I can't forget that. I get the feeling they won't be forgetting in a hurry, either.
Perhaps some people are forever seeing bands that play a mixture of revivalist hymns, twisted Beefheartian blues, pummeling metal mayhem and children's TV themes, but for me Suitable Case For Treatment are something special. It's amazing how they switch styles so effortlessly, leaping from falsetto silliness one minute to threatening vocal harangues the next (some of which render a stuffed Cellar completely silent, which is no mean feat) via some abstract keyboard noise. Many people have pointed out that the vocalist is so gravelly he makes Tom Waits look like Yma Sumac, but that's not the whole story: lots of vocalists can growl, but not many can do so with such a vivid range of colour and phrasing. Or with such gut-churning volume, for that matter.
Also, for a band that veer quite close to cabaret at times, they don't get too tempted into showboating or playing to the gallery: witness the funereally slow and sparse take on the classic "Will The Circle Be Unbroken?" with which they open the show. And looking at SCFT you get the feeling the circle will be broken. Broken, mangled, chewed up, cut into tiny pieces and possibley boiled in oil. This is the sort of band that makes you want to take up smoking so your mouth can feel like your ears do. A glorious noise.
As has been well documented, Damo Suzuki tends to round up so-called "sound carriers" before his gigs, with whom he then proceeds to play completely improvised sets, so we saw the tiny legend himself surrounded by some of Oxford music's more familiar faces, which was a slightly surreal experience ( I mean for me, God knows how it felt to them!). Anyway, I feel that Damo can go back home happy with the collaboration he discovered in Oxford, as the band was superb. If the music was truly improvised, it was tighter and better controlled than many bands can manage after a month of rehearsals. The sound itself was rich but ultimately very sturdy and evenly weighted - the complete opposite to SCFT - and, consciously or unconsciously, there was a definite kraut flavour to large parts of the set. Special mention must go to Evenings bassist Phil Oakley whose fat and fruity parts seemed to cohere the whole sound.
Although, of course, there was another man onstage who had some influence on the quality of the evening. Damo is fascinating, as it's tough to tell exactly what he does that's so good, and he's clearly just one of those special vocal presences who can improve any music without doing all that much, like Mark E. Smith, Johnny Cash or James brown. He's certainly got quite a small technical armoury, and an even smaller vocal range, but he does just enough to embellish the music and bring out its flavour, like dash of water in a nice single malt. He seemed to find a melodic and downright groovy song in the midst of Sunnyvale's clatter, which is quite some achievement! Ultimately, it would seem that Damo is a very generous collaborator - he is playing with these musicians, not hiring them as a backing band.
Of course, the risk of fully improvised performances is that there are the odd passages that don't ignite, and occasionally the gig edged towards a fuzzy mid-70s jam nightmare...but then again, the joy of fully improvised music is that the great passages arise unannounced, and there were easily enough of these epiphanies to keep me hanging on to the performance for the duration.
A final question for the cold walk home: to what extent did Damo make this gig great, and to what extent was it down to the band? A real stumper, that. I guess next time he comes to play here he can perform with completely different musicians and then we can compare. That's a hint to the Oxfordbands chaps, by the way...
Damo has come back to Oxon a couple of times, with different bands, but sadly I've not managed to see any of those shows, so the final question remains a mystery.
DAMO SUZUKI/ SUITABLE CASE FOR TREATMENT/SUNNYVALE NOISE SUB-ELEMENT, Oxfordbands, The Cellar, 24/1/06
Although it took me a while to get converted, I now believe that Sunnyvale Noise Sub-Element are one of the best bands in Oxford. But that doesn't automatically translate into one of the best live bands in Oxford. Their backing tracks are wonderful, all angular electro, thudding techno and thick sonic mulch, but the live instruments don't always add a huge amount, generally consisting of simple, fractured basslines and sudden guitar thrashes. Trouble is, you're not sure you want the live instruments to do much more as it would spoil the musical balance and swamp the lovely crunchy rhythms. Let's just say that Sunnyvale gigs are great but there isn't always much to differentiate them. Oh, except that Damo Suzuki joined them for two numbers tonight. I can't forget that. I get the feeling they won't be forgetting in a hurry, either.
Perhaps some people are forever seeing bands that play a mixture of revivalist hymns, twisted Beefheartian blues, pummeling metal mayhem and children's TV themes, but for me Suitable Case For Treatment are something special. It's amazing how they switch styles so effortlessly, leaping from falsetto silliness one minute to threatening vocal harangues the next (some of which render a stuffed Cellar completely silent, which is no mean feat) via some abstract keyboard noise. Many people have pointed out that the vocalist is so gravelly he makes Tom Waits look like Yma Sumac, but that's not the whole story: lots of vocalists can growl, but not many can do so with such a vivid range of colour and phrasing. Or with such gut-churning volume, for that matter.
Also, for a band that veer quite close to cabaret at times, they don't get too tempted into showboating or playing to the gallery: witness the funereally slow and sparse take on the classic "Will The Circle Be Unbroken?" with which they open the show. And looking at SCFT you get the feeling the circle will be broken. Broken, mangled, chewed up, cut into tiny pieces and possibley boiled in oil. This is the sort of band that makes you want to take up smoking so your mouth can feel like your ears do. A glorious noise.
As has been well documented, Damo Suzuki tends to round up so-called "sound carriers" before his gigs, with whom he then proceeds to play completely improvised sets, so we saw the tiny legend himself surrounded by some of Oxford music's more familiar faces, which was a slightly surreal experience ( I mean for me, God knows how it felt to them!). Anyway, I feel that Damo can go back home happy with the collaboration he discovered in Oxford, as the band was superb. If the music was truly improvised, it was tighter and better controlled than many bands can manage after a month of rehearsals. The sound itself was rich but ultimately very sturdy and evenly weighted - the complete opposite to SCFT - and, consciously or unconsciously, there was a definite kraut flavour to large parts of the set. Special mention must go to Evenings bassist Phil Oakley whose fat and fruity parts seemed to cohere the whole sound.
Although, of course, there was another man onstage who had some influence on the quality of the evening. Damo is fascinating, as it's tough to tell exactly what he does that's so good, and he's clearly just one of those special vocal presences who can improve any music without doing all that much, like Mark E. Smith, Johnny Cash or James brown. He's certainly got quite a small technical armoury, and an even smaller vocal range, but he does just enough to embellish the music and bring out its flavour, like dash of water in a nice single malt. He seemed to find a melodic and downright groovy song in the midst of Sunnyvale's clatter, which is quite some achievement! Ultimately, it would seem that Damo is a very generous collaborator - he is playing with these musicians, not hiring them as a backing band.
Of course, the risk of fully improvised performances is that there are the odd passages that don't ignite, and occasionally the gig edged towards a fuzzy mid-70s jam nightmare...but then again, the joy of fully improvised music is that the great passages arise unannounced, and there were easily enough of these epiphanies to keep me hanging on to the performance for the duration.
A final question for the cold walk home: to what extent did Damo make this gig great, and to what extent was it down to the band? A real stumper, that. I guess next time he comes to play here he can perform with completely different musicians and then we can compare. That's a hint to the Oxfordbands chaps, by the way...
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