Narc. Magazine Online
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Ali Welford enjoys a revelatory night of sonic experimentalism
Image: feeo by Ali Welford
I’ve seen Competition open many a show over the years, but perhaps never in quite such quietly effective fashion as tonight. Here, Craig Pollard’s enigmatic songs play out against the bustling ambience of an urban field recording, seemingly taken from a busy shopping centre or train station. Accompanied by the warm embrace of guitar and his isolated, vocoded croon, its effect is transportive. Close your eyes, and it’s easy to imagine you’re witnessing him perform in the quiet corner of a crowded public space, taking a moment’s timeout while the rest of humanity obliviously goes about its hectic, stressful routines. Breaks for applause feel unnecessary and serve only to shatter the illusion – though thankfully only temporarily, as Pollard’s sparse, vulnerable songs draw you into their insular sound world once more.
It sets the scene beautifully for feeo – yet ultimately offers little preparation for the magnitude of what’s about to unfold. Based in London (with, as we discover, links to Whitley Bay via her mum), artist Theodora Laird was responsible for one of last year’s most electrifying beneath-the-radar creations. Released in October, debut full-length Goodness presented a captivating marriage of minimal, austere textures with Laird’s subtly arresting vocal; a record tailor made for late night listening and dedicated headphone-aided escapades. Tonight’s set is short and sweet, consisting largely of the same material. And yet, what transpires feels revelatory; more intimate yes, but also a physical experience, shuddering amidst the weight of its sonic reverberations.
It’s an experience akin to an ominous and oppressive anxiety dream, where darkness causes your other senses to heighten and the tension is so expertly curated you could slice it with a knife. Win! is case in point; an eerie, agitated crawl whose supple electronics creek and throb uncomfortably, albeit with a spectral, curiously disarming allure. No less mesmerising is Laird’s voice; magnetic and poised without being showy, wearied yet perfectly assimilated within its muggy setting.
Her secret weapon, however, is accompanying guitarist/bassist Caius Williams. Coursing through your bones like a pulsing fusion of Grouper’s ghostly stillness and the gut-punching ferocity of Sunn O))), his leaden, riveting layers expand and transcend Goodness’ sonic confines, unleashing drone and noise hellfire from an unassuming stool perch. These elements reach a confluence on Here, wherein Laird’s most expressive, yearning vocal is set to a furious squall of feedback, groaning and shifting with the kinetic weight of heavy-duty industrial machinery. It’s a sensation no number of advance spins through Goodness could have prepared for; the manifestation of a performance both startling and mesmerising from beginning to end. I’ll be lucky if I experience a finer 40 minutes of live music all year.
