Ferocious.
Hmm. Is ferocity in music er, a good thing? Actually, much as I love
quiet music - and all manner of non-ferocious
music-making! - I tend to see ferocity as a positive. At times it’s fierce,
ferocious and fiery ... or it’s nothing!
I
won’t bang on about all the supposedly in-your-face super-fierce gigs I've been
to (one man’s “fierce gig” story is … well, just boring). Instead here are a few observations about how I think some bands thrive on speed, volume, “aggression”
or just general intensity. Take that away and they become ... dull. Just another
try-hard outfit. A few quick examples:
Speed: Thee Vicars used to be good for
speedy garage rock. Also Thee Machine Gun Elephant did this well the time I saw
them. But my best in this category: Theee Bat or The Sundae Kups. Both take
surf-infused garage rock and speed it up until it starts to disintegrate. Cool!
Volume: yeah, time-honoured and often
massively overrated, but I must admit there are times when sheer volume (or
perhaps particular kinds of volume) has its place. For example, a Part Chimp
gig I went to a few years ago had that wall of noise effect that basically seems to be shaking the entire room. (I had to take a break, retiring to a quiet alcove.
It was in the crypt of a de-sanctified church, so luckily there were quite a few ... quiet alcoves). Same with a Tackhead Soundsystem
thing I was at in Edinburgh in 1988: stomach-shaking stuff! Also many years
ago: Killing Joke. Very loud. Ferociously loud, you might say.
Intensity:
bit harder to put your finger on but, in the end, maybe the key thing for true
ferocity. Or maybe it’s a case of speed + volume + intensity = ferocity! Never
saw ‘em, but The Birthday Party at their peak looked like they got close to
this formula. Ones that raised the intensity meter with me have included:
Hospitals (bloke on the drums basically pummelling the percussion into
submission), a specific Pete & The Pirates gig where their always
fairly moody drummer went rather wild with a 25-minute drums-blasted make-over of one of their tunes, Modey Lemon (a blues-ier version of the Hospitals gig basically),
and … oh, quite a few really. After all, who can forget that Selfish Cunt
gig from ’06 where he chested his way
through the slightly cowed audience, Iggy-like, blood smeared on his wiry
camp body, spitting at people (including me, direct hit) and sneering as
he kicked discarded glasses against the wall …?
Right,
stop all this! I’m doing what I said I wouldn’t. Running you through some of my
well-remembered gigs, like it … matters
which ones I’ve been to or something.
No,
this is not quite what I meant to write, but then again it’s hard to capture
the thing I’m talking about. I reckon ferocity is crucial in a lot of music - recorded music as well - but it’s
not easy to explain. It’s the undefinable something that unites John Lydon’s searing stare at the end of The Sex Pistols' (mediocre) Anarchy In The UK work-out in the Granada So
It Goes TV studio in August 1976, and the hyper-kinetic breakcore wildness of WSicko’s Forgotten Memories (to take countless recent examples).
God,
“the undefinable something”. I’m reduced to writing that. But hey, you know I’m right….
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