There have been few shows as steeped in scene hype this year as that of King Dunn, the acoustic pairing of Melvins’ iconic guitarist/vocalist Buzz Osborne and Trevor Dunn, bassist of Mr Bungle (and more than a few others). They are two musicians who have always been known for their intensity on stage, for a shared uncompromising approach to their art and a knack for playing loud as hell. Plus, this year’s Eat The Spray EP was one of 2024’s most unique releases in a year that’s seen stiff competition, so this truly felt like a “one to tell the grandkids about” kind of occasion.
Before the main act commences, it’s time for Ni Maîtres. The solo project of Anthroprophh’s Gareth Turner, the set-up of cello, a smorgasbord of pedals and a theremin is intriguing enough, and when he dons a Michael Myers-esque mask, curiosity goes from piqued to peak. His approach to cello is intriguing, flitting between deep, sonorous bowing and more skittish, frenetic salvoes higher on the neck, all run through a gauntlet of distortion and reverb; but as he hammers out a primal beat on the strings, loops it then uses that as the backdrop for sizzling noise explorations, the effect is mesmerising. Utilising an AirSynth, an obscure Theremin-alike alongside a more traditional model, he creates abstract drones and synthscapes that somehow sound both alien and primal.
Ni Maîtres. Photo: Demelza Kingston
Though his set does alternate between passages that stress looping, leaving him free to embellish with pulses and squalls of distorted noise, and sections that focus solely on his dexterity as a cellist, fully utilising his instrument’s tonal range and its ability to elicit a broad spectrum of emotion, the sense of repetition never really feels like it is present. In its stead is a flow of sound, a turbulence that can be weirdly relaxing one minute and an absolute sonic barrage the next; and the fact that Turner’s face is hidden behind a veneer of shiny white plastic means that he is never guilty of giving away what will come next. It’s just a gloriously weird celebration of cello, electronics, and the possibilities that come when they overlap; and it’s a little bit brilliant.
Still, there’s brilliant and then there’s King Dunn. The thought of Osborne and Dunn performing an acoustic set seems a little difficult to wrap the brain around at first; but when you consider that these two have never done anything by half measures, it doesn’t come as much surprise to see them coming out swinging. Osborne launches into a stripped-back rendition of ‘Hung Bunny’, trading gut-rupturing distortion for sharp yet sinister strumming, throwing his body behind every note. Dunn’s accompaniment is dextrous, working his voluminous double bass with uncommon ease, yet he remains subtly in sync with his partner. When Osborne finally opens his mouth, the power behind his voice makes the microphone seem almost redundant – his cries of “She once like animal” pretty much eclipsing every other sound in the room.
King Dunn. Photo: Demelza Kingston
A handful of Osborne’s solo efforts adjust the pace, ‘Dark Brown Teeth’ a flighty burst of gonzo Americana that has the pair seemingly trying to outrun each other, while ‘Laid Back Walking’ has a tense air, Dunn’s bowed bass lending a sense of mournful elegance to the night. But it’s the cuts which were written with these two in mind that shine: ‘Eat The Spray’ deserves special praise, an immediately arresting melody from Osborne being pitted against Dunn at his most frenetic, plucking and scraping with terminal intensity. It’s grunge-folk at its most out-there, earthy and resolutely weird, and it’s glorious to watch it play out in such an intimate environment.
Buzz Osborne. Photo: Demelza Kingston
And then there’s ‘Boris’: its inclusion already feels worth the price of admission alone, but when it’s this bare and unvarnished it starts to border on genius. It’s not a showy piece, not blindingly technical or crippling heavy, but Osborne has always been able to gift it with a towering life, a musical golem carved out of riffs rather than clay. He bellows every line like a mountaintop preacher, his guitar punchy but occasionally flirting with more delicate textures, and Dunn’s versatility is an undeniable asset as his sonorous thrums weave in and out of the sharper rattle of guitar strings.
Trevor Dunn. Photo: Demelza Kingston
King Dunn’s presence here was billed as a ‘once in a lifetime’ kind of deal and it was in almost all aspects. Both Osborne and Dunn are remarkable individuals, gifted with skill and character in equal measure, and neither sacrificed a molecule of their presence in this collaboration; they instead seem like people who have played together for so long and in so many guises that they neatly slot together, complementary in every respect. For super-fans, this was a momentous occasion; but even for more casual observers, no one walked away from this set with anything less than respect.
