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by Bootleg Al * Photo Copyright to Alex Murray Sunn O))) scare the fucking crap out of me. Descending the stairs from the bar at the Islington Academy into the main auditorium all I can see is a mass of dry ice slowly ascending towards. Then the ‘music’ starts. Sunn O))), it’s needless to say, like their music 3 ways; sludgy; droning; and very very fucking LOUD! As I stand their having my ears absolutely destroyed from the churning down-tuned guitars or Stephen O’Malley and Greg Anderson as well as the sonic aural textures resonating from Oren Ambarchi (yes the line-ups this good) I can barely see the stage, in fact I can barely see the guy standing in-front of me. You see going to a Sunn O))) show is an experience in its own right, there is no way that you could ever recreate the sheer brutal force of the literally rib shaking music or the intimidating multi-sensual performance these guys put on. But it doesn’t end there. About 25 minutes in Xasthur enters stage right in full robe and death mask. If they play music in hell Xasthur would undoubtedly be the ‘singer’, he sounds like he’s possessed with the soul of death metal itself. Standing next to the bar I turn to the barmaid who has her hands over her ears not so much as a tool to stop the sound, nothing could stop this sound, but rather as a mark of protest to the brutally intrusive force of what she is being subjected to, I learn over and politely remark “bad night to be working” to which she replies in broken English “yes, it’s my first shift in my first job here”, poor girl. In the few months since this show I’ve never seen her working there again. |
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SUNN
O))) 