It's hotter than hell in here; we're all drinking Gin just to keep out the 24hr Malaria that's seeping out of the seats. Earlier a guy playing solo guitar and a lobster-net full of effects had put together a Spacemen 3/Fennesz drone and Kek and I had marvelled at the Big Naturals Jen SX1000 (love that teak surround!) and I started wondering whether it was the same one I'd left back in my old house in Swansea...
Briefly I'm off on a not unusual braindrift into synchronicity and Godellian blur...
Psychbloke has left the building, suffering from heat exhaustion and an unusually heavy heart - this kind of Finnish nonsense is dragging him ever onwards towards a post about Ross from Friends keyboard skills...
The mismatched cogs of An Idiot's Guide to Dreaming are starting to creak...
Circle are rocking out tonight, not always successfully but with a bizarre grace and self-belief... most of the band are wearing studded wristbands as a declaration of intent, the guitarist is wrapped up in black leather straps; a Birthday Party thin body fallen into a jar of licorice.
When they hit it, they really hit it... theres's wonderful moments throughout when the emerging meta-rock chaos and chunders breaks apart and then congeals into a thick, dense, kraut groove...
...people are caught up in the weave and the hum (you can see rows of bearded heads nodding) but the venue is forcing them into apathy, into sitting when they should be pulsing; thick dope smoke is nullifying the surroundings when it should be setting them on fire...
Jussi the bassist and Tomi the drummer (today appearing as Fantomas) are keeping everything together while Janne on guitar looks disorientated, wrestling with inner demons as he struggles to find a loop. Every step he takes brings another mic stand crashing down... the rest of the band don't seem to notice, they're too caught up in their odd atavism...if everything fell apart tonight, if the electricity failed then you get the distinct impression that they'd keep on playing, thumping on the sides of the stage, on the skins of the drum, on the gaps between their ribs...
...these guys are not entertainers; they play because what the fuck else could they do? You'd never buy flat-pack furniture from these guys, never deal in bonds with them, never let them sell you any theory...
Equipment malfunctions, Janne finds himself clawing at his own feedback, scraping sounds out of the guitar neck like a farmer wringing a chicken...by the last song he's thumping away at the synthesiser, dragging tiny tunes that never quite appear...
Circle don't lock down enough for me tonight, about two thirds of their set is blisteringly beautiful, with the other third playing too many rock moves for my brittle tastes but they're still streaks ahead of their peers and, whatever shapes they're throwing, Mika Rättö is still the worlds greatest rock vocalist - eyes closed he is a bundle of nervous tics and bear-trap tension; eyes open he is a pixie, a Loki, full of light with the kind of oddly affecting smile that comes from knowing that there's nowhere else on Earth you'd rather be...
4 comments:
thought you might like to see some pics from the night at my blog http://rottenmeats.blogspot.com/
"The mismatched cogs of An Idiot's Guide to Dreaming are starting to creak..."
too right, I didn't even show up, despite being the only other contributer who's actually posted anything in the last few months! And come to think of it, Psychbloke left early when I dragged him along to a dubstep nite too - how can someone so HUGE be such a lightweight?!!
Hey I got the weight when it counts......
I don't have to humour you guys and your little interests y'know.
Anyway, where were you? Maybe a cheeky drink sometime?
Taking care of 'business'...didn't get home until nearly 10pm and too tired and pissed-off to be bothered with it by then.
Drinky-poos, you say? Sling a few dates my way...
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