Perhaps one of the most prolific bands of the bygone 1980s post-punk scene, Swans possess an illustrious discography, reaching in to every corner of the labyrinthine mind of frontman and founder, Michael Gira to bring forth a comprehensive mixture of gothic post-punk, industrial, post rock and in some cases, folk and country.
The sound itself, on paper, comes off as unpalatable, and first-time listeners usually have a hard time comprehending the group as a whole, yet it’s the musicianship of the entire band that provoke quite a unique and skillful listening experience. This doesn’t make for conventional songwriting though; new fans and seasoned veterans alike still have a tough time predicting what their next move will be.
With To Be Kind, the most recent incarnation of Michael Gira’s constantly evolving brainchild, fans were taken on a monolithic aural journey, clocking in at around the two-hour mark and sitting comfortable at the top of many year-end lists of 2014. It was hard to comprehend how a band managed to make lightning strike twice, echoing their recent acclaim of The Seer in 2012.
Having come from the cusp of a thirteen-year hiatus, as well as a nearly faultless discography, the New York sextet were about to play to a sea of eager fans in the midst of one of the most humid days Melbourne had to offer so far.
It was hard to know what to expect.
One by one, each member graced the stage, followed by a lengthy applause, as they each started working their part into their respective instruments, carefully constructing brick by brick of hauntingly dense atmosphere. Thor Harris made his presence known through the use of a large gong and steel pipe chimes, backed shortly thereafter by Phil Puleo and Christoph Hahn on drums and lap steel guitar, respectively.
The rest of the group followed suit as they slowly wormed their way through a previously unreleased track, ‘Frankie M’. Gira swayed in and out of the microphone stand like a man possessed, teasing us each time he opened his mouth to sing, only to fall back for another few bars. In traditional Swans fashion, it was a lengthy movement, clocking in at somewhere between twenty minutes and half an hour. The crowd erupted in applause after the climax, but this was just the beginning.
The cheering continued as the group segued into the unmistakable bass heavy intro of ‘A Little God In My Hands’, fronted by Gira’s drawn out, melancholic vocals.
“Pink little lamb, on a granite slab. Black chasm creeping, forever leaking.”
Each member knew their role and played into it without fault, cohesively acting as the individual gears to a well-oiled machine. Gira was carefree in his gesticulation, slowly jerking his arms above his head, not unlike a conductor. “I’m just a little boy!” he screeched during the eponymous ‘Just A Little Boy (For Chester Burnett)’ as he impoverished his lungs.
Gira is a man of few words, taking a short moment’s reprieve between songs to express his appreciation unto the nearly full house. “Thank you; girls and boys” he continued, mirroring the crowd’s gratitude, all of them brought under his spell.
However, it was the closing one-two punch of ‘Bring The Sun’ and ‘Black Hole Man’ that really brought the performance into a league of its own. The tense build up of guitar and bass from Norman Westburg and Chris Pravdica exploded into an almost apocalyptic movement, with Gira at the helm. “Bring the sun!” he commanded, his arms dangling, seemingly controlled by a greater force.
The crushing heaviness between Gira and Westburg during the tail end of ‘Black Hole Man’ reigned as an immediate crowd favourite, the jerky start/stop, gaining gradual momentum until they hit a lightning fast apex and finishing up even faster than they had started.
Again, the reaction was highly acclaimed, the six-piece uniformly taking a bow, followed by a thick wall of applause. Gira took the moment to introduce his band mates one by one, thanking them and the crowd again before they all departed the stage for the night,
Swans brought forth a feverish wrath onto The Corner Hotel; a dormant and unholy union of echoing song structure and tumultuous walls of noise brought forth into the heart of Melbourne. It’s hard not to sound pretentious when talking about an entity such as Swans, but in the space of just over two hours, citywide fans were treated to an experience that was hypnotic, purgative, and justifiably cathartic.
Don’t miss Swans at Sugar Mountain this Saturday the 24th January.
