(((O))) Live: Paranoid Void • God Alone – The Hug And Pint, Glasgow

Live music can play a variety of roles in peoples’ lives. For some, it’s the occasional treat, a little mini-break to enjoy once in a blue moon; for others, it’s a social event, an excuse to catch up with old friends over a shared interest or to reminisce about the bands you saw together back in the day, or maybe it’s your way of staying connected to your local musical community. More often that not, though, it’s just a way to have fun, to revel in the joy and emotion that only watching musicians at the top of their game giving their absolute all can elicit, and if there are any two bands that demonstrate this better than Paranoid Void and God Alone, they’re keeping their secret well hidden.

The last time God Alone passed through this city, they were standing on the exact same stage at about the same time and probably playing to more than a few of the same faces. With that in mind, it’s hardly surprising that they are just as impressive this time around, their approach to genre-bending not so much ambitious as it is completely irreverent. ‘The Beep Test’ proves the ultimate initiation for the unwary, a convoluted tangle of math rock, hardcore and metal that defies all odds by being continuously unpredictable and catchy as hell. Jake O’Driscoll is an ideal frontman, his guitarwork technical yet streamlined, but he works the tiny stage with madcap energy, pinballing and dancing across the room whenever he can manage to tear himself away from the microphone.

Cian Ó Maoláin and Jack O’Hanlon make for an interesting rhythm section as both share O’Driscoll’s flair for wild tangents – the former with his guttural stop-start basslines and occasional forays into head-down aggression that borders on grindcore and the latter, whenever he adopts a flighty, featherlight touch, his sticks brushing across the snare like wooden spider legs before hammering down on his kit with blunt-force ferocity. As a counterpoint, guitarist Seán Thompson and synth wizard Dylan Kelly are much more understated, the straight men that form the glue holding all these disparate bits and pieces together.

 

There is a burst of emo-dance euphoria when they trot out ‘Pink Himalayan’, O’Driscoll’s plea to “watch me die” a moment of depressed disco genius, while the skittish ‘ETC’ bolsters the infectious booty shaking of its on-record counterpart by delivering it with a feverish energy; but it’s a final ‘Kung Fu Treachery’ that steals the show. Karate demonstrations? Yup. Impromptu renditions of ‘Happy Birthday’ directed at a slightly befuddled-looking Thompson? Same. They’re maybe the most predictable parts of this sprawling cut that is rattled out with an ecstatic, gleeful fervour, a strange beast that goes nowhere and everywhere – so, the ideal way to end such a unique set.

The release of Paranoid Void’s third full-length Action back at the start of the year wasn’t met with the biggest of fanfare, which might have been a good thing because stumbling across that gem out of nowhere was probably like glimpsing heaven for some. Yet, it’s somehow even better in person and not just because they have managed to cram in nearly everything else they’ve ever recorded around it.

For 75 minutes, they are the epitome of music as a skill, an artform, and as entertainment. All three players are accomplished at what they do, MIPOW’s drumming energetic and impeccably timed, especially noteworthy given how easily she flits between tempos and rhythms, while MEGURI has a light, breezy style that owes more to jazz eccentricity and clean, bright melodies than it does the hyper-technical noodling that usually dominates in math-rock. As for YU-KI, she is an absolute master of her craft, her bass-work dizzying to watch as she rapidly shifts between taps, slaps and punchy, soulful grooves. But a moment later, she will switch to synths and her approach will change to the attentive focus of a seasoned DJ. The logistics of this rapid shift in style are mind-boggling to watch, and her performance alone could conceivably carry a show.

Still, she isn’t on her own and together with MIPOW and MEGURI, the trio have managed to create a complex style of interplay that feels cohesive and danceable, the kind of songs that immediately bury into the subconscious but you’ll have no hope of recreating if anyone ever asks you what you’re vibing to. ‘Dive’ is an early highlight, MEGURI stacking up one shimmering melody atop another even as the time signatures descend into incomprehensibility, but ‘High Fever’ takes the energy to a different plane, YU-KI tapping in trancey beats while MIPOW rattles out a fizzy disco beat. The trio are constantly shifting between these states of playfulness and blissed-out chill but the net effect is always the same – smiling faces, shaking rumps, good vibes.

Paranoid Void have always been tricky to pin down, too fun for the jazz and muso crowds, too turbulent for the orthodox post-rockers, but in a room like this, and at a time like this, they make more sense than anyone to have graced this stage. For all their complexity, these songs flow naturally and the band approach them with a sense of joy and discovery. The crowd lap it up and are more than willing to turn that energy right back on them, bouncing and shimmying to each new riff and impossibly executed bass run, so even after the band have left the stage the crowd are chanting for more. Unfortunately, MEGURI returns to sheepishly explain that they have played all their music and have no songs left but that’s all the more reason for them to hurry back and play the hits once again.