You know those terrific nightmares you had as a child, where there's a thousand over-bearing shadowy monsters hounding you and you wake up gasping for breath and sweating with panic feeling distinctly like your synapses have melted and your skull and brain muscles are simultaneously caving in? It's a pretty similar feeling to that on exiting the solo show of the Hella & Team Sleep drummer, Zach Hill. Billed as a warm-up for his appearance at The Breeders-curated ATP at Minehead last weekend, with support from Vice Magazine's favourite baby Mike Bones, I had to expect this gig to make me suffer. But it's a suffering infused with delirious and unbelieving happiness; I can only imagine it's akin to being horrendously consumed by a lion- painful and hard to understand but exciting to be that close to a rare breed, knowing there are so few alive in the world.
I keep seeing Mike Bones' skinny, semi-naked body in Vice. Apparently he's toured with Cass McCombs, who displays an intelligent blend of nostalgic art-rock, ethereal noises and indie-folk. Bones however peddles some lack-lustre Libertines-style drugs ballads which sounded so dull I stayed in the bar.
Hill had already started when we went through to The Croft's tiny back room. There were about 70 people in there, mainly guys wearing black hoodies and the odd girlfriend. Instantly Hill's snare sound hits you in the ear drum: the skin is stretched so tight you imagine each time he slams a stick on it a whip cracks inside your head. He's such a hard hitter he has broken his kit mid-set, and it's easy to see how. If This Will Destroy You & their post-rock ilk create a wall of noise, Hill manufactures a sonic barbed-wire fence adorned with broken glass and nails.
Physically, Hill was a frenetic sweaty blur for the majority of his 50 minute set. The noise and speed with which he executes his playing sucks you in to the extent that you don't notice until halfway through that there's some guy with a guitar and a laptop sitting to his right, making electronic notes barely audible above the battlefield drum racket. You listen to the kick drum; you assume he's using a double kick pedal. When you see he has no such thing you are therefore so amazed that you watch his ludicrously speedy & heavy right foot, unwavering, for ten minutes. Then you notice the near-destroyed crash cymbal and realise that the bizarre muffled and clanking noise that's been hovering on the edge of your throbbing hearing has been Hill battering that thing like his mother's life depended upon it.
Any attempt to discover a hidden rhythm or pattern in the percussive onslaught is denied. The set doesn't seem to even contain definable tracks. But you don't care. You aurally thrash around in the waves of noise for nearly an hour and when he's finished, leave with dissolved cochleas and a massive grin smeared across your face.
myspace.com/littlemikebones
myspace.com/zachhillmusic
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Really enjoyed writing this review. I knew I wanted to do a review of something musical, rather than fine art-y, since throughout this module that's what the main focus has been on, despite the tutors constant reminders to think outside our own field. Music was a fascination before art was; however I am aware that I am not half as good a musician as I am an artist (that is not to say I think I am an amazing artist: quite the opposite). I have real difficulty being original in music. I am not sure how much my formal education in the two areas have affected my outputs: I had piano lessons from the age of 5 until 19, as well as 8 years on the oboe plus short stints of lessons on the flute, recorder, guitar and vocals. My art training has formally been from about age 14, through GCSE & A-Level, Art Foundation, BA and it's now continuing with my MA. All my boyfriends have been musical and I find it hard to be close friends with someone if they don't really care about music: it's what I want to talk about the most. Anyways.
