I’ll Be Your Mirror – Alexandra Palace, London
Swans, Portishead and Alan Moore all star at ATP's two-day bonanza
Words John Doran
Photography Maria Jefferis
ATP took something of a gamble on the venue for the debut I’ll Be Your Mirror weekend (Oh to be a fly on the wall when ‘The Black Angel’s Death Song’ and ‘Heroin’ were being discussed as the title for their newest festival). Ally Pally has a reputation for awful sound, and this is in a city where woefully inadequate PAs are the norm.
Props are surely due, then, for pouring money into making this stately and odd building sound as good as it looks. Anyone attending the recent, stunning Flaming Lips Soft Bulletin show was witness to decades of appalling gigs being cleansed from the memory, and a clear line of sight created back to the idea of Pink Floyd’s legendary Love-In happening in the same venue.
On Saturday, DD/MM/YYYY are yet another group along with Master Musicians of Bukkake and Com Truise who refuse to adorn their amazing music with a name that doesn’t make them sound like student bellends. Over in the main room things kick off in fine style with BEAK>. As their recent album with Anika proved, the Bristolians are one of the best backing bands going, but they don’t suffer for being without frontperson either. Much more than the Neu! nuts they are sometimes cast as, their grooves are drenched in warm psych-rock and drone. I think I would die happy if they ever collaborated with Electric Wizard or Cathedral.
DOOM serves up summary and ruthless justice to anyone claiming he can’t cut it live and lays to rest the ghost of Roundhouse performances past, although in fairness it’s PJ Harvey who owns the main stage today, recreating the triumph of her recent Let England Shake shows.
Whether it’s returning electronics expert Dom Butler having something to prove after a three month sabbatical or the influence of recent temporary member Chris Carter of Throbbing Gristle, Factory Floor are explosive tonight. Even by their own monolithic standards. It may be a ‘pop’ set (old favourite ‘Lying’ is resurrected) but everything has a tweaking, acidic sheen to it. The Stool Pigeon are not the only ones to lose their shit dancing.
It’s hard to see how anything can top FF’s magisterial set but the next day Swans pull it off. You always get your money’s worth at ATP events, but the best of them show you things that make you feel privileged to bear witness. Michael Gira’s troupe have already abandoned most of last year’s excellent My Father Will Guide Me Up A Rope To The Sky for new material which combines heavy ASVA drones, Neurosis tribal drumming, Loop-strength space rock and unhinged free jazz.
No doubt about it, Swans are currently the prime argument against bands reforming being a bad thing. There are lots of honourable reasons for making music, but harnessing the energy around you to reflect it back into the void as a positive means of saying, temporarily, I am here, especially when executed like this, is perhaps the most righteous.
The Greatest Living Englishman Alan Moore steps down from his dope throne to decode Harry Smith’s Heaven And Earth Magic film in typically hilarious and thought-provoking manner while Stephen O’Malley makes a satisfying guitar racket in the background. But the heaviest moment of the weekend is provided by curators Portishead, via a stripped-back, unplugged version of ‘Wandering Star’. The abject nausea at the core of this song is forced to sit in ugly prominence centre-stage by the lack of studio sheen as Beth Gibbons’ singular voice echoes round the venue: “The blackness of darkness forever.” I’ll Be Your Mirror was a pure triumph.
