It’s clear from the half circle of inward facing amplifiers on stage that Godspeed You! Black Emperor is an introverted band.
The eight members sit facing each other, on low chairs that leave them beneath the line of sight for most of the audience. They barely glance at the capacity crowd until the final note sounds, when one of the guitarists offers a half-wave. The others have already left the stage.
Even among the die-hards at the front, there’s very few people wearing band t-shirts. The merch stand doesn’t sell them, and everything else about the venue seems to be carefully constructed to deflect attention away from the band.
For this reason, it’s hard to talk about Godspeed You! Black Emperor. Really hard.
On one hand, there’s the persistent temptation to collapse into the warmth of the superlative. The performance invites, and warrants praise at every turn.
But you get the feeling that flattery is the exact opposite of what Godspeed seek, or moreover, what their fans think they deserve.
This is reaffirmed during a mid-set break, when a lone voice breaks the hush of a packed-out Forum and yells ‘GODSPEEED! YEAHHH!’
Immediately, a collective awkwardness sweeps the crowd, as if pub-rock praise might somehow embarrass the musicians. It doesn’t, but the brief outburst is a reminder of just how immersive, and artistic, the “anti-performance” can be.
This reclusiveness obviously has a lot to do with the fact that the Canadian-based collective’s music is married to film in a profound way. Preferring to let the whir of analogue projectors fill the silences between songs – the perishable quality of film adds a powerful dimension to the music.
At one stage during the climax of the band’s opening number “Mladic”, film is literally melted in front of the audience’s eyes. KGB-style dossiers and mugshots dissolve into a sticky mess of plastic, replaced by a flickering word – “Fear”’. It’s an absolutely shattering moment.
Elsewhere, the recurrence of film reels is used to haunting effect. The flashing emergency lights at the beginning of “Sad Mafioso” give way to a disturbing combination of images, including a man reaching into his pocket, fumbling with an unidentifiable object. The effect is pure paranoia.
In an earlier song, a shadowy figure is seen strolling beside a train-track. When we see him again, a terrifying sense of déjà vu sets in. The journey has become circular, and the relentless monotony is confirmed by his presence.
Sonically, single note motifs are repeated for what seems like an eternity. You could quite literally leave the venue, walk around the block, and return to hear the exact same sustained tone. Drone numbers that, on record, are normally overlooked by all but the most passionate of fans are given new life by the visuals.
Overwhelmingly, Godspeed seem to be concerned with the spaces people inhabit. Whether it’s a sea of Soviet-style apartment blocks in “Mladic”, the elegant, yet gutted house in “Gathering Storm” or the bunker in “Behemoth” – the music and visuals are almost always building toward some sort of urban claustrophobia.
The shrill cry of the violin and a second percussionist appear whenever a crescendo is in sight, bringing a heightened sense of panic with them that never quite dissolves. During these moments, bowls are placed in front of the projectors to warp the passage of light, the now distorted montages adding to the confusion.
Despite the thematic repetition, the setlist is tight and well chosen. The band has the luxury of getting half their ‘new stuff’ out of the way by playing “Mladic”, the sprawling opener from Hallelujah, Don’t Bend, Ascend! right off the bat. Later in the set, the more elusive ‘Behemoth’ is clearly a crowd favourite, despite the fact that it has not yet been released as a studio recording (this is due, in large part, to the band’s ‘camera friendly’ approach to bootlegging).
Musically, parts of “Behemoth” give the band a rare chance to play in unison. Earlier, “Gathering Storm”, saw them depart on separate paths. Fittingly, “The Sad Mafioso” brings these different modes of composition together; leaving images of anarchy lingering well after the final note is drowned out by applause.
There’s no collective bow, and certainly no encore. Only a few among the crowd are really expecting it. Their optimism fades fast
In a recent, and rare, interview – the group defended their approach by stating, “you either make music that pleases the king and his court… or the serfs outside the walls.”
So was The Forum packed with penniless, downtrodden souls taking a rare break from the fields? Probably not. But the metaphor is certainly a broader comment on where Godspeed see themselves in the musical landscape – as a band that forgoes self-promotion in order to genuinely challenge people to approach music in a different way.
After the show, a fan nearby could be overheard explaining how he first “got into” Godspeed.
“I remember listening to them on the radio when I was at university. I heard this song and thought, ‘who are these guys!’ and after waiting all this time to see them… I still don’t really know.”
You have to think that Godspeed You! Black Emperor would rather keep it that way.
