White Hills, Gum Takes Tooth at Cargo - 17 April 2013

Ego Sensation of White Hills

It’s the first sign of spring.  There are more people sat in the garden at the back of Cargo than there are in the venue itself.  It’s a lovely evening and the company is pleasant.

Cocking an ear, I can keep tabs on the bands inside. Or so I think.

By the time I enter the room itself, my old friends Gum Takes Tooth are in full swing.

This is the second time in less than a week that I have seen them, and I find it interesting how the sound mix (and a certain familiarity with their material) changes my perception of the band.

At the Dalston Victoria Jussi vocals had been much louder and Thomas’ drums much more obviously electronically treated. Tonight it’s a much more low key performance and a more organic sound.  And I do enjoy the way that Jussi kind of slides across the floor while he’s playing with his various knobs and dials, like a modern parody of the Egyptian sand dance. I like them more than last week and I wasn’t really averse to them then.

I had seen Dave W from White Hills wandering about the venue earlier. This is a man who has the number of Alice Cooper’s stylist – heavy black make-up around the eyes and long straggly shoulder length hair surrounding a craggy face. Lots of leather and jewellery and he’s good to go.

Dave is accompanied on stage by the wonderfully named Ego Sensation, her dyed blonde hair flying in all directions as she pummels her bass guitar. She is a rock goddess in red and black.

The trio are completed by Nick Name, who is out of synch sartorially with the other two, looking as though he has just wandered in from the garden outside, but who makes his mark by being an absolutely shit hot drummer.

White Hills specialise in loud groove-led psychedelic space jams that take you on a wild ride to the outer reaches of your ever expanding consciousness. By which I mean that there lots of extended guitar solos and effects pedals.

There are more vocals than I had expected, W and Sensation attacking their mikes in unison, their voices echoing above the sonic onslaught.

The set races by. When the three musicians locate the sweet spot of a towering and protracted riff they are very good indeed. I find myself jiggling from foot to foot, which is pretty much as close as I can get to dancing.

The evening finishes with me deaf and happy and I gleefully buy a tour CD from the divine Ms Sensation.  Great stuff.

Gnod at Dalston Victoria - 11 April 2013

Gnod

The Dalston Victoria is a shabby and rather battered looking pub on the outside. There is a bouncer on the door. It’s not particularly inviting.  Inside, there is a pervading and rather noisome odour that I eventually track down to the Thai curries that are on offer. These don’t seem that inviting either.

There is a sign on the door that gives the running times for tonight’s bands. It is quite clear that these are wildly optimistic.

Tonight is an Upset the Rhythm promotion. This means that you can be sure of two things. That there will be great music and that the evening will run in a chaotic fashion.

We are eventually ushered into the back room to be confronted with drum and noise duo Gum Takes Tooth. 

Things start promisingly. There is a lot of electronic equipment onstage and this is used to good effect to distort the sound and rhythm of the drum kit and assist the vocalist, who spends much of his time shouting down what appears to be a small handheld megaphone with the end taped up.

There is nothing wrong with the band that couldn’t be solved with an ‘edit’ button. Drummer Thomas is impressive and vocalist Jussi looks like a scuzzy janitor from a Scooby Doo cartoon. I’m happy with them both, although they do rather outstay their welcome.

After a brief hiatus the room is set for Gnod. And Gnod are a revelation.

From their recorded work I had mistakenly formed a mental image of a band with long hair blasting out spacey and psychedelic rock music. What I actually get is a dark room piled high with electronics and strobe lights and lots of musicians slaving away over their equipment like an infernal sweatshop.

Gnod have eschewed the stage and have set up their banks of gear on the floor. This allows the crowd to press right up to them.  Not that this is possible, as the way is barred by a howling vocalist, screaming his lungs out through a microphone that distorts his voice and adds it to the thunderous cacophony.

This is wild music that feels like standing in a gale at the top of a cliff. It’s all around you, lifting you up and buffeting you about. The darkness adds to the experience, the strobes like flashes of lightning that momentarily illuminate a musician pounding away at a bench of wires and dials.

It’s disorienting and wonderful. This electronic music sounds organic and dirty rather than calculated and clean. It’s the anti-Kraftwerk and more akin to Rough Trade era Cabaret Voltaire (if the Cabs had been strapped to a Saturn rocket).

Time and space mean nothing and such is the volume and power unleashed that it continues to whoosh around your head even when the band have finished and left the room.

Gnod is good. Gnod is great. Thanks be to Gnod.