Gum Takes Tooth play to the small crowd who’ve arrived early enough to see their set. Their identities are obscured by plastic sheeting and a piece of fabric which sparkles dully in the dim light. They play drums and a table full of gadgets. These instruments play as if in a headlock, wrestling viciously with each other. The effect is a bit like digital grindcore. Or if you strapped a Commodore Amiga to John Bonham’s back. At it’s best the electronics sound evil and squelchy and the drum pummel adds a relentless forward motion. When they finish their set no one has emerged victorious.
The venue has filled up by the time Sloath take the stage. Low-end, down-tuned blues riffs. Some form of transcendence is sought in the repetition of those riffs. However, I find myself becoming bored. It all sounds so familiar. But there’s something which stops me dismissing them outright. Maybe this is not my night to fall in love with Sloath. I think there’s potential for a relationship. Perhaps we just need to see a bit more of each other.
I love Part Chimp. Nothing sums up the band more than their name. It encapsulates the un-evolved, Neanderthal, rock they play. I like a Don Cherry improvisation as much as the next jazz sophisticate, but sometimes you just need to listen to mean riffs played at deafening volumes. Part Chimp blast through their set with well practised precision. They never disappoint. Rusty corrugated iron riffs serrate your ears through the twin guitar attack. The drummer hammers his kit like a furious blacksmith. They close with a thunderous version of War Machine. They return to the stage for encore 30 Billion People. The audience nod their approval with synchronised head banging.