Swans are an institution. That much is already for certain. Sure they may have been absent for thirteen years of their thirty year lifespan, but their legacy was already highly influential. It is hard to think of any other band that has had such a huge impact upon extreme, experimental music over the last three decades. Boredoms, Godflesh, Godspeed You! Black Emperor, Neurosis and Tool are just some of the bands that would probably be radically different if it was not for the influence of Michael Gira’s uncompromising approach to his work. Even Kurt Cobain listed ‘Young God’ as one of his favourite records.
Of course, Swans have changed a lot in that time, almost out of recognition were it not for the same ingredient that has always separated them from every other act on the planet; the sheer incomparable power of their work. Whether in their early industrial phase, their mid-period folk rock or their later excursions in drone and post-rock esque directions, Swans have always sounded genreless and peerless. Nobody else sounds like Swans, but more importantly Michael Gira is one of the few that recognises that the unique monolithic power his band holds is a direct result of their refusal to play by the rules that almost every artist in the world abides by.
As such, the varied approaches taken by the artists gathered at London’s Koko to celebrate the band’s thirtieth anniversary, at the first Mouth to Mouth Festival, should be of little surprise. Liz Harris’s solo Grouper project, first on the bill, could not be much further from the intense volume that Swans live shows are known for. She is as quiet as can be. Her vocals are inaudible. There are just waves of ambient noise emanating from her guitar and her cassette tapes. It’s stunning on record, but the hush it brings to Koko is even more enthralling. Tonight Xiu Xiu also take on a quiet approach. Jamie Stewart appears alone with his guitar singing songs about god that he didn’t write. Between songs he glances up to the heavens. His apparent lack of comfort at even being present speaks volumes about the pent-up passion he exudes through renditions of Roy Acuff’s ‘Wreck on the Highway’ and Woody Guthrie’s ‘Lonesome Valley’.
Ben Frost’s set is where the volume kicks in. Brutally loud, aided by two drummers, the Australian electronic experimenter provides an ear shattering set that leaves most attendees in a stunned silence. His music remains texturally fascinating even when delivered at the immensely punishing noise levels it is today. He does mean that, when Mercury Rev’s Sound Tettix Wave Ensemble arrive to soundtrack Albert Lamorisse’s ‘The Red Balloon’ they seem a little lightweight, but they actually do a fantastic job of providing a suitably subtle, but nonetheless sonically expansive accompaniment to a classic piece of cinema.
What can I possibly say to express what happens when Swans eventually take to the stage as headliners? Of course, despite the best efforts of tonight’s uniformly excellent supports, they remain in the shadow of this most awe inspiring of bands. The thing that most people simply do not understand about this band is that they are a force not of anger but of sheer joy. It’s a set that affirms this in some style. Over the course of two hours, mostly consisting of new (and as yet unreleased) material, Gira leads his band through music that, in many ways, is disarmingly simple but captures more about the human condition than it is possible to describe. For devotees seeing this band is like going to church. It’s like the first time you realise you have a direction in your life. It’s like understanding purpose of it all for the first time in your life. It’s astonishing.
Yet, it is not hard to understand why, for the vast majority of people on the face of this planet, it would be entirely devoid of meaning. Swans are, by their very nature, extremely obtuse. The huge dissonant slabs of noise that light up ‘To Be Kind’ or the mechanical repetition of ‘Coward’ would be incomprehensible to most, but then isn’t that true of any faith? For faith is an individual, esoteric concept. I freely admit to being wholly unable to adequately express why the way that Swans play speaks to me on the level it does. All I can say is that, like some people believe in heaven and eternal life, I find myself believing ever more in the life-changing sounds created by a fifty-nine year old man from New York and the musicians he chooses to accompany him. Whether that will mean anything or not to anyone I cannot tell, but it means a hell of a lot to me, that much I know for sure.
