Leeds again, as I have lately been reminded that we have not gone for a long weekend en famille for some time. (The less mentioned at this stage regarding my cancelled 40th birthday weekend last year, the better).
And despite parent difficulties on the eve of departure, everything went more or less to plan.
Of course, I managed to ensure that the trip coincided with something more entertaining than just shopping...
I usually take a dim view of bands that split up and then reform years later when the midlife crises kick in.
When Michael Gira disbanded Swans in 1997, he apparantly wished to distance himself from the various connotations associated with that group. Gira made good his promise to return and quickly formed the much more acoustic and (cough) experimental project "The Angels of Light", maintaining his cathartic and apocalyptic visions.
So, while the announcement of the resurrection of the Swans in 2010 seemed like a step backwards, I have been pleasantly surprised by the quality and intensity of their post-reformation output. (Having two drummers in tow and not having Jarboe around certainly helps).
Arriving late at the University Union didn't allow much time for fond reminiscences, and navigating stairs in almost total darkness didn't help my mood much. Available leaning space being tight, my only option was to make my way down to the stage just as Xiu Xiu was setting up.
Performing solo, with just acoustic guitar and electronic effects under unflinching red light, Jamie Stewart's set was suitably entrancing, and a lull before what was to follow.
I don't think anything can fully prepare you for the latest incarnation of the Swans.
Starting with a layered guitar drone and a slurred Gira vocal, the band suddenly erupted into a wall of noise at a volume that I didn't think was humanly possible to create. (Leaning against the stage, I spent the next 90 minutes feeling like I was being kicked repeatedly in the ribs by sound. And being in Gira's eyeline for the whole of the event was a uniquely disconcerting experience, too).
Most of the material was either new or beautifully distorted to the extent where it was twisted into a bizarre new form. Every song played felt like the final brutal blow of the set, with Gira mentally writhing on an imagined crucifix of self-disgust or conducting the explosive percussionists into further nihilistic pounding.
Setlist Surprises: None
Disappointments: None
Emerging post-concert from the depths saw the revelation that my ears had at some point decided to decode all incoming signals in a ring modulator style. The following day proved an entertaining excuse to adopt selective hearing, as I realised I could pick and choose what I seemed I was able to hear with the justification of having had the inside of my skull sonically scrubbed clean the previous evening...
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