The music is thumping, the crowd are heaving and the sweat is pouring – and no-one has even played a single note. Part of this might be down to the climate but the rest is likely due to the fact that A Place To Bury Strangers are in town, a band with a reputation for apocalyptically loud shows. As such, they have brought out an eclectic mix of punters, from middle-aged noiseheads to greenhorns who have decided to broaden their horizons from whatever is making the rounds these days. All anyone knows is that they’re probably in for a treat.
Despite being something of a local act, openers SKLOSS are already a global-tier prospect. Consisting of duo Sandy Carson and Karen Skloss, they split their time between their home cities of Glasgow and Austin, TX and only occasionally come together to make a glorious racket. Fusing the motorik rhythms of krautrock and a wigged-out, freewheeling take on spacerock, their set is both expansive and inward-seeking, moments of hesitation and stillness repeatedly shattered by explosions of reverb and pounding martial beats.
SKLOSS. Photo: Demelza Kingston
‘Ghosts Are Entertaining’ showcases the pair at their most focused, Carson’s measured strums eventually giving way to a barrage of sound as he hunches over his pedals, locked in on delivering a sound as monumental as the beats that Skloss is pounding out, but a mid-set run-through of ‘The Pattern Speaks’ gets the biggest reaction from the crowd. The groove is impossible to resist, driving and urgent, and the contrast of Skloss’s soaring voice and the grounded shouts of Carson (well, as grounded as you can get after being run through a gauntlet of reverb and effects) makes for a deadly combo.
Rather than try to top that, Die Anstalt confront the audience in a completely different manner, their clanky synths and juddering post-punk exuberance the perfect answer to the question ‘What if Deutschland ’83 had a house band’? There are touches of kitsch here and there, vocalist Carmen Redeker often robotically marching and throwing starched salutes when she isn’t scaling the venue walls and generally playing the part of agitator extraordinaire, but it all feels pointed, a knowing jab thrown directly at the idea of unchecked authority. Any feeling that she is merely playing a part is immediately quelled by just how infectious her energy is, her sense of being lost in those frantic, sinister beats an invitation for everyone to join her in the revelry.
Die Anstalt. Photo: Demelza Kingston
It’s not all wild energy, with cuts like ‘Kalter Schweiß’ leaving Emanuele Mattei to dominate with a ragged prowl of a bassline while Redeker reins in her kinetic urges, giving it an eerily mechanical vibe that unsettles even as it urges feet to shuffle and stomp in unison. Still, mostly this is a feast for the senses, ‘Kriegen’ a standout moment in a set filled with them as Redeker breathlessly barks out lyrics while Jakob Feyerhem guides the trio on a journey of jangling post-punk guitarwork and defiant aggression; a throwback appearance of ‘Schon OK’ ups the ante even further, those programmed beats keeping the pace of a particularly vigorous Jane Fonda workout video while all three bodily throw themselves into the performance. It’s crazy, and confrontational, and joyful, and it’s hard to see how anyone could witness this and not feel capable of righting all the world’s wrongs afterwards.
Die Anstalt. Photo: Demelza Kingston
Things are running a little behind schedule due to one punter’s placement of, and the subsequent spillage of, a pint on the stage pre-Die Anstalt’s set, so it feels like things are rushing ahead when A Place To Bury Strangers kick off, but there’s also a sense that this level of urgency is standard practice for them. They waste no time in leaving the crowd in a state of complete disorientation, the only lights a series of projectors sending out rays of shifting colour as Oliver Ackermann wrangles out a wall of distortion from what looks like a Fender Jaguar that lost a fight with a freight train. John and Sandra Fedowitz do their best to keep things on track, their rhythm work just as loud as Ackermann but with more purpose and direction to their driving rhythms, but it sometimes feels like they’re trying to tame an unruly beast as he flails and jerks across the stage in a stream of white noise and utter abandon.
APTBS. Photo: Demelza Kingston
Things do eventually settle down, the appearance of ‘Onwards To The Wall’ prompting a mass singalong that sits well with the song’s relentless sense of momentum, and Ackermann demonstrates his incredible skill as a technical guitarist. He still wields sound as a weapon but the precision feels distinct from something like ‘Deadbeat’, which tonight is treated as an application of raw sonic force as he rams his guitar into the floor, the ceiling and anything else in sight while it screams and howls in protest. The set briefly relocates to the middle of the floor for an extended noise freakout, Sandra Fedowitz striding through the crowd with a tom raised above her head and occasionally inviting the crowd to join in with her percussive barrage. John just about manages to squeeze in alongside her to deliver a seemingly endless stream of tattered grooves as Ackermann runs his moans and chants through a battery of pedals he brought solely for the occasion.
APTBS. Photo: Demelza Kingston
Back on stage, it only really takes the length of ‘We’ve Come So Far’ for Ackermann’s demi-guitar to be smashed to smithereens, though he does admirably try to keep his aural assault going even with half a headstock gone and barely any strings remaining, but he quickly finds a replacement, equally beat-up instrument and ploughs on through ‘Lost Feeling’, John’s pulsating bass-work lending it a malevolent edge. As the set builds to a climax, the room is plunged into darkness and only a strobe light breaks the gloom, whipped to and fro by Ackermann as the Fedowitzes tear up a fevered rendition of ‘Have You Ever Been In Love’. It does what the band have done so well here tonight – it strips away some of the gloss and leaves in its place the raw power that was initially behind it. It’s beautiful and ugly, wild and utterly captivating, and it genuinely verges on the realms of “see this band before you die”. So go do that (see them live, that is – not die).
APTBS. Photo: Demelza Kingston
APTBS. Photo: Demelza Kingston
