The Roundhouse, London 13 May 2011
'We just thought it's an opportunity to get everybody
together in one place and have a nice time,' is how Daniel
Miller, in typically understated fashion, described the
two days' worth of Mute Records artists at this
year's Short Circuit festival (source: The
Wire issue 327, Invisible Jukebox). The 'everybody' he referred
to consisted of a huge chunk of the Mute / Grey Area
/ NovaMute roster from years gone by, and made
for a jaw-droppingly exciting prospect - Erasure
(and 'special guests'), DJ sets from Martin L. Gore
and Andy Fletcher from Depeche Mode,
a DJ set from Moby, Recoil, Nitzer
Ebb, Richie 'Plastikman' Hawtin, Richard
H. Kirk, The Balanescu Quartet, Komputer,
Simon Fisher Turner, Poppy & The Jezebels,
Polly Scattergood... and so on into the newbies,
Beth Jeans Houghton, S.C.U.M.,
Big Deal and Josh T. Pearson (performing
the songs of Mute). It was the type of event that a Mute fan could
only ever dream about, with lots of surprises to make even the most
casual fan go weak at the knees; I literally felt queasy all afternoon
at work. The feeling was only neutralised after I bagged my white
vinyl 7" of The Normal's 'Warm Leatherette
/ T.V.O.D.', an exclusive Vorwärts CD, advance copies
of The Balanescu Quartet and I Start Counting /
Fortran 5 / Komputer compilations, and a Mute tote
bag of course. I did feel a little conspicuous without a Depeche
Mode t-shirt on, mind, given the prevalence of fans around me.
My only concern, heading to Chalk Farm Underground
after work, was about sound quality. The Roundhouse is an historical
building from Britain's dominance in the industrial age and an iconic
concert location, being the venue where The Ramones first played
in London. I've been here three times before, twice to concerts,
and I've always thought that the sound quality and acoustics in
the venue were appalling. The only time it sounded good was when
David Byrne installed his Playing The Building contraption
here a few years go, whereupon the natural cylindrical cavern-ness
of the building leant itself perfectly to his installation.
Because of family commitments I could only make
the first day, so I missed out on the fuller line-up that Saturday
14 May offered. But I did get to see Komputer, Nitzer Ebb, a DJ
set from Moby and a live performance from Recoil, the long-running
project of ex-Depeche Mode soundsmith Alan Wilder.
I would have liked to have seen all of The Balanescu Quartet but
because this was a festival there's a thing called sequencing
which means bands you want to see can often be on at the same
time so you have to make a choice, in my case Nitzer
Ebb. Because of capacity constraints, I didn't even get into the
Studio Theatre for any of the quartet's performance, but I gather
they played 'Autobahn'. Never mind; I'll content myself with having
seen them at the Royal Festival Hall a few years ago as part of
Patti Smith's Hendrix event. And as for the events in the twilight
hours? Well, last trains back home saw those ambitions slip well
and truly off my radar.
In the lobby, Irmin Schmidt and
Kumo's Flies, Guys and Choirs installation
had me feeling well and truly creeped out by the sibilant rasps
and chittering, insistent sounds. Looking at the glass ceiling around
the lobby, I saw a small bluebottle trying to find a way through
the horizontal glass. I wondered if it was aware of how ironic this
was given the insectoid cacophany buzzing underneath him.
Down in the Studio Theatre, Simon Leonard
was beset by vocoder problems, but he pressed on regardless, opening
with a new Komputer track 'Minimum', which was a fairly apt description
for what they did on stage, David Baker singing
the chorus of 'Do the minimum,' with his hands behind his
back in a casual stance. It was a pose he adopted for most of the
40 minute set, only moving his hands to sprinkle occasional riffs
from his Korg synth. To me they looked like Egon Spengler from Ghostbusters
(the frail-looking Leonard) and Gary Glitter (Baker; but such awesome
triangular sideburns and when I bumped into him afterwards he's
a lot shorter in person) in orange boiler suits, but it befitted
the music. It's been years since I heard 'Looking Down On London',
well before the call of the City made me want to work here, but
it's sound was instantly recognisable and pretty moving; a video
of the sun setting on the City appeared behind them and stayed up
for most of their set. It was then onto I Start Counting's 'Letters
To A Friend', a song I haven't played for about 15 years, followed
by a heavy version of Fortran 5's 'Heart On The Line' with Leonard's
troubled vocoder replacing that girl from Miranda Sex Garden.
'Like A Bird' was beautifully delicate. There was a storming dancey
update of 'Still Smiling' with burbling acid-esque flourishes while
the pulsing Kraftwerkian 'Valentina' descended into corruscating
white noise. A heavy 'Million Headed Monster' was a welcome encore,
straddling the angry and the euphoric effortlessly.
I don't know enough of Recoil's back catalogue these
days to recognise individual tracks, but the cacophanous gospel
/ hip-hop beats and crushing bass-heavy noise I walked into in the
Main Space dispelled any lingering doubts I may have had about The
Roundhouse's sound quality. Edgy imagery provided thoughts of alienation
/ fear / angst / urban terror. On the right of the stage was Alan
Wilder, still dressed in a sharp suit like it's Depeche Mode circa
'93 but an awesome sonic / visual palette is nonetheless in evidence,
ably supported by Paul 'PK' Kendall. When the dirty
detuned 4/4 beats kicked in and fragile synths gave way to the 12"
mix of 'Never Let Me Down' the Depeche Mode fans in the crowd went
apeshit, and all of a sudden you're just begging for Dave
Gahan to come on stage, but this is instrumental Mode-hugging
only. He's just teasing. 'You know the routine, let's go!' Wilder-the-showman
says (a bit cheesily), urging the crowd to wave their arms from
side to side in a style familiar from so many DM gigs. Lurid hotel
porno peepshow videos and dark sounds fill The Roundhouse and we're
into snatches of 'In Your Room'; he was playing to a DM-loving crowd
after all. Recoil were at their most interesting when heading into
the Autechre-style electronica of 'Shunt', which expanded out into
an entirely logical 'Warm Leatherette' segue. Alas, there was no
sign of Daniel Miller on stage. It was just the record, just Wilder
teasing again.
And then, from nowhere, Douglas McCarthy
was on stage for 'Faith Healer', impossibly cool in shades and revelling
in the track's manic preacher-style delivery, while dense distorted
beats and sounds accompanied his stalking moves. Bon Harris,
Jason Payne and someone else come on stage for
the Ebb's 'Family Man', which was an altogether dystopian, noisy
and gorgeously threatening affair, all percussion heavy from the
Ebb guests. On a personal level, that was pretty thrilling. The
expanded line-up stayed on stage for something which snatched part
of 'Personal Jesus' with Doug doing the 'reach out and touch
faith' part like he was Gahan's natural successor.
For me, one of the natural attraction of the first
day was being able to see Nitzer Ebb. Until today the closest I
got was when they were due to appear at the Phoenix Festival in
Stratford-upon-Avon, as I could just about hear the bands from my
parents' porch, but I think they pulled out at the last minute.
And then, after Big Hit, they appeared to split anyway, thwarting
any hopes I then had of seeing them live. Even when they reformed
two years ago, I couldn't make any of the dates. Nitzer Ebb were
my first foray towards music's underground, so on a personal level
seeing them live was a dream come true.
They arrived on stage to 'Getting Closer' and ended
with a rousing 'I Give To You', and before I know it it's 1992 and
I've been dumped by yet another girlfriend. In between, 'Murderous'
and 'Let Your Body Learn' highlight the enduring and vaguely inexplicable
energy of Douglas McCarthy, Bon Harris and Jason Payne, who tonight
are dressed like Boardwalk Empire mobsters, while 'Control
I'm Here' had the crowd pogo-ing madly as McCarthy urged the crowd
on. 'Lightning Man' and 'Godhead' were delivered with edgy disdain;
during the former McCarthy waved a hand like he was a New Orleans
carnival host; during the latter, amid the heaviest, most bludgeoningly
over-the-top head-bangingest section, he literally flounced along
the stage. 'Down On Your Knees', 'Once You Say' and 'Payroll' from
the recent Industrial Complex had the crowd whipped into a frenzy
and I began to see the 'sex' in the Ebb sound for the first time
(especially during 'Payroll' when McCarthy was lewdly shouting 'You
wanna suck it?'); previously I thought it was just unbridled
rage and I'm not sure quite how I missed that somewhat obvious dimension
to their robust sound. Moby and Martin Gore were also watching,
but I doubt that they felt quite like I did as I found myself looking
happily in on my troubled teenage years.
Seeing Moby DJ his way through his back catalogue
and thudding dance track after dance track reminds you that he is,
after everything he's done and all the genres he's traversed, still
fundamentally in love with dance music, still the bald New York
techno DJ. Unassuming in t-shirt and jeans he had The Roundhouse
crowd rocking like it was way later than 10.00pm, manic imagery
of night-time Manhattan skyscrapers and jumpcut shots of Moby himself
providing the backdrop. I've stood just about as close to the guy
who, quite honestly, I wish was my best mate, and I've danced my
socks off like I just discovered techno again, and that's fine by
me. He finished his set, entirely logically, with 'Thousand' while
Richie Hawtin set up his laptop, whereupon I proved for the first
and indeed last time that it's impossible to dance to that track.
While Moby's DJ set was edging darkly toward 'Thousand',
and just before I left, Daniel Miller walked past me. I shook his
hand and thanked him, though he didn't realise it, for tonight,
for the music Mute have produced, for his creative vision and for
providing me with an escape from top ten chart hell. It is at this
point that I could probably stop writing for Documentary
Evidence; my work here is quite possibly done. I've met
my hero, seen some idols and it's hard to see where to go from here.
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