We’ve got galleries to go with this. Here, here and here.
This is my first Arctangent, but I seem to be the only person present who hasn’t attended every year. Everyone seems to know everyone else, and there’s a definite sense of, dare I say it, community. The vibe I get from many of the bands, and indeed from people I talk to, is that Arctangent has provided a focus to a scene that didn’t previously have one. But despite the apparent “niche”-ness of the genres it covers, there is a terrific diversity on show across all four stages, and hell of a lot to discover, even if you only have an entry-level interest in all things math, and indeed, post.
After arriving late on Thursday, I begin at the Yokhai stage, and watch Mylets – which is one guy, Henry Kohen, with a guitar and a loop pedal. He’s rather like Refused, if they had just one member playing over recordings of the rest of the group. Mylets is the first of many of the weekend’s artists to delight in utilising weird time signatures – and while he certainly puts everything into his performance, the missing interplay between band-members takes something away from the intended impact of the tracks.
Japanese instrumental overlords Lite, are the first band I see who really draw a crowd, and they’re extraordinarily tight. Two qualities immediately separate them from other instrumental math-rock acts – firstly, their ability to write riffs that you actually remember after the set is over; and secondly, the fact that they have both light and dark-sounding songs. We are treated to heady and dramatic sections, but also to groovy upbeat licks that wouldn’t sound out of place in an Afro-beat song. Lite are granted a lively mosh pit, which is the first one I’ve ever seen for an instrumental band.
65daysofstatic are Thursday’s final act, and despite not playing on the main stage, this is absolutely a headline show. It’s hard to believe that it’s eleven years since they released their first album, and in the context of Arctangent’s roster they are practically elder statesmen. There is huge anticipation for them among everyone I speak to, and the band respond with a directness and passion that’s clear to all watching. Their guitarist and effective frontman Joe Shrewsbury relates a dream he had about eating George Osborne’s brains, but is later quick to make it clear that while his fantasy made us chuckle, the austerity society being imposed by Osborne’s party is no laughing matter. Despite 65days’ lack of vocals, Joe’s speech helps frame the rest of their set as a series of instrumental protest songs, which gives their final two tracks Retreat Retreat, and Radio Protector, an added edge.
Saturday begins with Body Hound, who combine intricate King Crimson-influenced guitar lines, with math-rock workouts and a post-hardcore punch. They tell us that this is the largest crowd they have ever played to, and bassist Joe Thorpe looks particularly chuffed when the crowd clap along to a song’s buildup, but one that’s in an odd time-signature.
Next I watch Ohmms, who deftly mix post-metal repetitive riffs, with classic rock-inspired guitar solos and vocals, to create a more uplifting atmosphere than the more unsettling ones often utilised by bands in their genre.
I was particularly looking forward to seeing Rolo Tomassi again, and they’ve not let up on the aggression, despite having been around for almost a decade now. Eva Spence’s vocals effortlessly switch between the delicate and the terrifying, as does their overall sound. I had not previously heard of Sonance, but felt obligated to check them out, as the festival program compared them to one of my favourites, Neurosis. Their songs employ extraordinarily gradual builds – resulting in one claustrophobic climax after another, in a similar (but more “Metal” way) to that pioneered by Swans. Hands down one of the best bands of the weekend.
I’m sorry to say, but the Fall of Troy are just not my cup of tea. Musically, their Rush-like progginess is great, and they are clearly fabulous musicians, but the petulant vocals remain a turn-off for me. Still, having just watched Sonance, the Fall of Troy’s presence is a testament to the diversity of Arctangent’s roster. As are Blanck Mass, who are firmly in the electronic/ambient genre, and very very fucking loud. Blanck Mass is Benjamin Power (also of Fuck Buttons) and his elaborate but insistent melodies are anchored down by a 4/4 beat to create a rave-up at the Bixler stage that I hadn’t expected to see.
I’ve now seen the mighty Dillinger Escape Plan seven times since 2002, but whether it’s in a tiny venue, or headlining a festival, they never disappoint in the intensity stakes. Most of tonight’s songs are cut from their most recent album, One Of Us Is The Killer, but the most vociferous crowd rowdiness I’ve yet seen at Arctangent comes with 1999’s stomach-churningly heavy “43% Burnt”. Dillinger playfully precede “Sunshine the Werewolf” with the opening few bars of Cream’s “Sunshine of your Love”, and gradually twist it into the more expected math-rock anthem – the finale of which sees brawny frontman Greg Puciato jumping from twenty feet high off of a supporting pillar, into the raised arms of the crowd underneath.
Many people I’ve met at ArcTanGent have heartily encouraged me to see Axes, and they were right to do so. It’s math-rock, but not as we know it. Their guitars smash out glorious, yet clean hooks, and while the drums keep things going, their occasional venturing into blast-beats actually heightens the positivity rather than undermining it. There are elements of Sonic Youth, and even the Grateful Dead mixed in with the mathiness, which help ram home just how damn joyous it all is. One of their guitarists says to the Arctangent crowd “Anyone else feel like they’ve come home?”, and plenty agree.
Next I see Lone Wolf on the Bixler stage, and they are yet another curveball. Talk Talk inspired songs are the order of the day, complete with graceful piano and guitar accompaniments to the soft and understated vocals. The slow instrumental sections are most welcome after all the fiddlier, heavier bands I’ve watched, and Lone Wolf’s music is, in a word, lovely.
Talons play the main stage, and prove that the violin can be used as an emphatic lead instrument in rock music, but in precisely the opposite way to a hundred wanky Battle-Metal bands. Their songs are also instrumental, but the difference lies in how the guitars, bass and drums provide the backing for violin melodies that take us on a journey from vertiginous uneasiness, all the way through to towering splendour.
Marriages (featuring ex-members of post-rock group Red Sparrowes), are yet another great find. Tender and hypnotic vocals from their singer Emma Ruth Rendle, lie tastefully on top of delayed and eerie guitar, where the focus is on the texture and overall feel of the song rather than on non-stop riffage. I’m watching Marriages a fair distance away from the stage, and I find that I’m enjoying them far more with my eyes closed – happy to be led into the imaginative sound-world that they create. An acquaintance who is watching them with me is such a convert that he immediately buys Marriages’ latest album, Salome, from the adjacent merch stand.
Vasa are another instance where my festival program guides me to the PX3 stage, to watch a group I have no prior knowledge of. It states that they sound like Foals and At the Drive-In – which are maybe not the best comparisons, but I was not at all disappointed. They don’t rely too much on unorthodox time signatures – moreover, Vasa’s strength is in the sheer sense of triumph conveyed by their major-key, complex harmonies. Bassist John Niblock contributes much to their playing, and despite his seven-string bass and the clear progressive-rock influences, Vasa never degenerate into muso wankery – it’s ascendant grin-inducing hooks all the way. Niblock takes a stage dive WITH his bass during their last, and best song, and – simply because they made me happier than anyone else I saw – I’d go out on a limb to say they were my favourite band of Arctangent.
Deafheaven are Sunday’s headliners, and despite being a relatively new band, they deserve this slot. And while the San Francisco quintet’s music has proved divisive – to me their Black-Metal influenced drumming and vocal stylings gel effortlessly with shoegazing guitar effects and poignant post-rock chord progressions. Frontman George Clarke stands on stage with the charisma (and dress sense) of a benevolent dictator, and while his lyrics are inaudible, his screaming conveys the necessary despair to wonderfully compliment the strident bliss delivered by Kerry McCoy and Shiv Mehra’s respective walls of guitar noise. Ignore the naysayers – Deafheaven stand head and shoulders above many of their contemporaries at this end of the “rock” spectrum, due to their exploration of the new and inhospitable frontiers still possible with the guitar/bass/drums/vocals set-up.
Unfortunately I have to leave Deafheaven early, in order to see the rescheduled Cult of Luna, now playing on the Yohkai stage due to having missed their original flight. I get there just in time, and the tension is palpable. As always, Cult of Luna are the masters of post-metal (or whatever you want to call it), and I know of no other group that can use such simple riffs so effectively. After their first song, one guy near me is so impressed that he yells to his mate “Fuck me, they’re heavy!” Cult of Luna do not introduce themselves, and the stage lights are such that none of the band’s faces are visible, bar the two drummers at the back. They crush all beneath, as expected, and the tempo shift at the end of one of their strongest tracks, Ghost Trail, leaves many open-mouthed. A couple of drunks at the front try in vain to start a mosh pit, but Cult of Luna play music for your head, not your body. I reviewed Cult of Luna’s show in London last year, which was intended to be their final one before going on “hiatus” – though thankfully this appears not to have lasted, as after Arctangent they embark on a tour of the United States and Canada. I would advise catching them if you still can.
And as Cult of Luna’s final hymn, Dark City Dead Man, comes to an end, that’s it for this year’s Arctangent (bar the silent disco, which was in fact far from silent – I am denied a satisfactory sleep due to en-masse a capella versions of Papa Roach’s Last Resort et al going on all night). The next morning I awake to torrential rain and a leaking tent, though my temperament is raised by the knowledge that I will attend ArcTanGent next year – and so should you.
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