Restless Natives: Tim Hecker / Blanck Mass @ St Luke's
If there's one unanimous consensus that can be drawn from tonight's gig, the finale of the week-long Restless Natives festival, it's that earplugs are essential. Edinburgh duo Dalhous mercifully lead us off with a relatively gentle start; their elegant, ambient compositions float heavenwards to the rafters of St Luke's and marry moments of delicate melody with a creeping, insidious undertow, reflecting the outfit's conceptual interest in the complexities of mental health.
Any false sense of security is swiftly shattered when Benjamin John Power, aka Blanck Mass, launches an immediate assault on his unsuspecting audience. Jarring vibrations and distorted synth engulf the darkened room, heightened in discomfort by pulsating, grotesquely amorphous forms that flash across an overhead projection screen.
Like a magician half-glimpsed through the smoky gloom, Power (one half of the pioneering electronic noise duo Fuck Buttons, alongside Andrew Hung) relentlessly toys with his audience over the course of the hour-long set. Staccato synth stabs and ear-rending volume send discombobulated crowd members scuttling to the rear of the room – yet underpinning the apocalypse is an irresistable jungle pulse which draws us helpless moths to the proverbial flame.
With an uncanny sensitivity for just how much punishment his listeners can endure, Power offers up slices of respite. From start to thunderous finish, Blanck Mass's set is a cataclysmic journey which has us nodding heads in enraptured unison one moment, and cowering under a deafening onslaught or averting eyes from the squirming, writhing images onscreen the next. It's as painful and as gloriously necessary as the most bitter of medicines.
A lengthy delay before Tim Hecker eventually emerges from the gloom does little to repair our fractured sensibilities; nor does the Canadian visionary's deliberately drawn-out meandering through ethereal, futuristic soundscapes endear him to an audience who by now appear distinctly confused. Hecker eschews any type of fanfare; save for the faint glimmer of a strand of purple lights, his set is comprised of the same kind of drone/ambient dichotomy which made his latest release Love Streams such a unique, and at times maddening, listen.
This uncompromising vision proves too much for some Sunday evening gig-goers, who slip away into the night before Hecker's set draws to a close. Though it may have proved polarising for some, tonight's epic noise feast demonstrates that 21st century music is unequivocally determined to challenge, and not simply appease.
Inspiration, application & smoke machines: Power + Hecker in conversation