I
got down to this new main venue for the first evening of 'Colour out of Space,' The Old Market, picked up my ticket and
wristband, checked the schedules, had a drink in the bar and realised
that: a) I don't really like Peroni and b) I would probably spend
more time between acts in the Conqueror just round the corner, a great old-school
boozer with a friendly welcome, which I had scoped out on
psychogeographic reconnaissance the previous evening. (Butcombe
bitter, yum. Double Jack D – cheap. More yum).
The
venue itself, a converted market hall, is high-ceilinged, a larg-ish space with a few chairs
scattered which geriatrics/the knackered like myself would eagerly pounce on over the next few days. A bit like that kid's game, except
you grab a seat when the music starts... The running order looked as
tight as ever with quick turnarounds – everything was going to happen in the one space but
rotating from the main stage to a small stage situated near the back,
to the side, plus various performances that would take place out in
the open, as it were. Gave a bazaar-like quality to the listening
experience, wandering round from each set. Tonight this would not be
too much of a problem – good crowd but not too oppressive.
First
up: the Eisteddfod kicked off with Tobias
Kirsten and John Lunds, a sax/drum duo from Copenhagen. Short
repeated phrases on baritone sax, hammered out in tandem with the
crashing drums. Free jazz meets Steve Reich, if that makes sense –
improvised but hurled into repeating patterns that subtly shift,
driven along by relentless drums. Lunds switches saxes, moving up to
tenor, the lines get longer, freer. An exhilarating start...
Next, Infinite Gaah, Tom
Roberts, a Northampton denizen transplanted to Brighton. I missed
most of this short segment and came in to see the small side stage
surrounded. Didn't have much idea what was going on – seemed like
a good time as the crowd were enjoying it. And there was a lot
of fun over the three days – Colour out of Space has always provides a
large variety of musics but is never too po-faced, unlike, say,
Freedom of the City, which has become somewhat, shall we say,
ponderous. The young crowd help – this is not a congregation of
old gits like myself, sat around scratching their beards in solemn
witness, thank fuck. (Although I wasn't the oldest here).
Anthony
Donovan and Clive Graham followed, on the main stage. I managed to
get a good spot down front, stage left – not that position mattered much in
this hall as the sound was superb throughout. Duo electronics,
sat at the table looking quite serious, they produced an orchestral, busy movement
that did not falter. Which is the test of all these improvising
artists/bands – to fill the time without noodling and to hold the
audience. I know Anthony's work from other areas but this was very
impressive. They fitted together well, not getting in each other's
way.
Back
to the bear pit – getting crowded now. I hovered on the edge of
the crowd, got a few glimpses of Aki Onda in
action, who has a wonderful sense of the theatric/visual to
frame his music. Which comes from manipulating cassette tapes.
With minimal resources he produced amazing sounds, warm and organic, etched with harsher sounds further in.
Starting in pastoral mode, a cuckoo calling, a bell sounding, tapes
looped and crossed. Very calm, meditative, the ritualistic feeling
extended when he proceeded to walk round the edge of the crowd, some
sitting, some standing, all in rapt attention, a small amplifier with
Walkman attached, gently swinging like a censer, wafting sound. Ok,
fanciful – but there seemed a spiritual aspect somewhere. Bringing
in drones now and sharper fragments of song, things shifted into an
edgier area. Nearing the end, he suddenly grabbed hold of a
lightbulb which hung down from the ceiling on a wire and swung it in
a long looping arc just over the heads of the assembled, some ducking
instinctively as it described its swirling movements. Wonder what
Elf and Safety would have said. The light spun round giving an eery
finish to a superb performance. In a weekend when it was difficult
to pick favourites – this came near.
Couple of short observations:
Wreck
and Drool and Smack Music 7 – three piece ensemble. In my notebook
I scrawled 'Brilliant! A BAND!' Vocalised sounds sprung across
electronic movements, the whole being loose in its expansive
possibilities and yet tight because of the artists' concentrations.
Lichen
starts walking round playing his sax, moving over to electronics and
loops that produce LOUD throbbing music. Punchy.
The
last act I caught ( I didn't stay right to the end) was a brilliant
flourish: Crank Sturgeon and
id m theftable. A duo who truly tests one's abilities to
describe them. Vaudeville on acid? was one scrawled note. They were
extremely funny while producing a continuous barrage of intelligent
sound, showcased by their intensely wacky visual éclat
and their ability to engage the audience – such as crazed, bemused
chants repeated over and over by id, echoed back by the crowd in wild call and response mode as
Crank used thick cellotape with a contact mike attached to produce a
battery of sounds as he ran backwards and forwards across the stage,
securing the tape to either side, producing several rows, on which he
hung himself at one point, arms akimbo in an almost parody of the
Crucifixion. Jesus on a washing line... Later, producing a number
of cut-out phalluses which were attached – cocks pegged out in a
row. Some smutty interplay with these of course. Bizarre – and
hilarious.
Loud,
raucous, rude. Loved it. Some weird area where performance art
crashes into standup comedy, noise and home made electronics (Crank
had a merch stall throughout and was flogging his own custom built
contact mikes. Nearly bought one but I've a drawer full already and
a boy's gotta economise. But check out his web page - they look really good). Crank is a whispy bearded thin prankster, id, big, burly full-bearded with an air of outraged bewilderment at the world. The chemistry between them is superb. Of course, I share religious beliefs with
Crank – also being an ordained minister. (Available for weddings
etc). A side thought: American acts, in the main, always seem to
make an effort to engage. A big difference usually between them and
the Europeans...
I
was tired, run out of steam, left for a brief one in the Conqueror and walked back down
the sea-front, which left me even more tired when I got to the
hotel! Further than I had figured...
But a great opening night.
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