It’s taken me a number of weeks to hammer out this review. Largely because I think my brain needed time to digest what I saw and what I heard, but also because when it comes to Mike Patton, we on the mountain attach a certain level of bias. There have been far too many times where Patton and his collaborators have left us speechless, slightly awestruck.

Be it a stunning Kadaa/Patton ‘Romances’ set at Roskilde.

The beautiful madness of any Fantômas gig.

Or the absolute wonder as Raziel and Patton tore through a set with such musicianship that people were left dumb struck, turning to each other, tugging on sleeves to point at the stage gibbering things like “Oh my good god.” “Are you hearing this? Really are you hearing this!” and quite simply “Wow.”

The gig was on a Monday night, the tickets on the door and slow continuous stream of people only serving as a reminder of this. The crowd was a variety ranging from those wearing homemade “Patton is God” t-shirts to those of Fantômas, Tomahawk and then those either older or not into displaying their allegiances. Initial fears that it would be a poor nearly empty showing were quickly put aside as The Village began to get cramped and hot boxed.

There’s little to say about the support. I arrived toward the end of Chequerboard and promptly walked back out for a cigarette. I found only portions of Lakker held my attention – while a reasonable effort it just didn’t seem to fit the time or place, being something I’d rather go specifically to see with a prepped brain. There was a familiar-ness to it that made it sound slightly second hand.

I think ZoiD was the last of the support on stage. All I can say is; it began well. Then it quickly began to look and feel awkward, as he at least appeared at times to struggle with the juggle of guitar and laptop. I’ve heard good things about ZoID, so I refuse to rule him out. It’s just that after a couple of minutes on the night, I found it boring or as I said during a sudden lull in the music where your voice is louder than it should be “Bloody awful”.

Patton appeared on stage to a chorus of shouts from the fanatics. Apparently several men are carrying his child. After some delays and fidgeting about with equipment, Fennesz and Patton took the stage. Whatever I had expected, from the white noise memories of the dream state mainframe style of Fennesz to whatever madness Patton decides to give us, I was barely expecting the wall of undulating noise that erupted from the speakers.

It’s a hard thing to describe the sounds they made but they were beautiful and I have to say I enjoyed every minute of it. I’ve heard some complaints that Patton didn’t seem fully with the music. However I think it is more a case that sometimes in collaborations he takes a slightly lesser role so that the other can shine. There were moments, in the din, where Patton’s vocals were reaching an uncomfortable level when Fennesz would step in either with guitar or otherwise and rise the sound back up and sideways. I can only hope that Fennesz returns for a solo set.

There was at the core of the weather-like noise an element of your brain looking out as you look in, a small voice saying, “I hope you’re alright”, then Patton would do something like whistle a melody and you would be. If only for the brief few seconds before Fennesz’ guitar strummed up all sodden with reverb and overdrive and Patton would begin a sort of barping-burping-Beefheart-scatting-whistled-hummed-wailing that sounded like something trying to break down the walls between worlds in a Lovecraft story.

Maybe there really is no way to describe this music properly, but I’ll try.

It reminds a little bit of Maldoror and Patton’s solo ‘Themes for Voice’ at the same time as it is its own separate twisted entity. With melodies floating up ethereally before disappearing into a weather-front haze of noise that veers from the Rapture down toward sheer madness and on toward the return of the old gods. In many ways, it reminds me of the music that should have been playing during the film within the film of John Carpenter’s ‘Cigarette Burns’. Just as it does the soundtrack for a never shown Shinya Tsukamoto or Jodorowsky or Švankmajer film. This is the mouth of madness, the sky opening up for the light show that is the end and damn it, if it’s not beautiful.

Okay, that’s enough wanking lyrical about it.

It’s not for everyone.
Many people will find it impenetrable noise. Possibly even headache inducing.

Many more will find it a self-indulgent piece of fluff between two noise merchants.

Fans of Fennesz may find little of the beautifully blended pop melodies stone-washed down with glitch and white noise that feature across his solo work.

Even the most die hard fans of Patton’s side projects may well find themselves stabbing at the wall of sound to try and find something they like to no avail. This is no better exemplified than by the conversation I had on the balcony with a slightly perplexed girl halfway through the gig.

“Do you think he’s taking the piss?”
“Who?”

“Patton.”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you think he’s taking the piss with all this? Seeing how far he can push it? Seeing when people will just tell him to fuck off?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so. Fuck it, I don’t know what he thinks he is doing but I hope he never stops”

The sound of the gig aside, I can also say I’m thankful to Patton for pairing up with Fennesz as I might never have discovered his music otherwise and that now, having heard Fennesz’ rather captivating solo work, I’m eagerly awaiting a solo tour by the man.

Big Rock Candy Mountain would like to thank Danilo Pellegrinelli for allowing us the opportunity to experience the above concert.

This review was horribly delayed due to happenings beyond our powers. Most of which centre about a Badger Death Cult, the rest figure in on the delays on getting the website up and then finding all the original articles again.