We Worship The Sun - The Art School, Glasgow, Sat 1 Jun 2013
- Stewart Smith
- 10 June 2013
An all-day jamboree of live music and DJs offering noise terror, punk jollies and absurdist improv in a laidback atmosphere
Nurtured by independent promoters, DIY micro-labels and alternative venues, Glasgow's underground music scene remains in rosy-cheeked good health. An all-day jamboree of live music and DJs, complete with barbecue and jumble sale, We Worship The Sun offered noise terror, punk jollies and absurdist improv in a laidback and friendly atmosphere.
From the Winning Sperm Party stable, Smack Wizards have grown into one of Glasgow's most enjoyable and inventive three-pieces. Bassist Waldo clearly worships at the Church of Mike Watt (hell, who doesn't?), lubricating his driving riffs with cavalier fretboard sweeps and juicy grooves. Ace guitarist Jack Mellin laces all this with breezy surf licks and lateral sci-fi jams.
Noma breaks out his trusty hairdryers and electric razors for a beautifully-executed drone set. Using nothing more than the pick-ups of a stringless bass guitar and a clean amp to process his sound sources, Noma calmly works his way through different combinations of gear, inquisitively experimenting with the positioning of his buzzing razors and humming dryers.
Dick Fifty unites thrash urchins Ultimate Thrush with Palms's Julia Scott. Having learned from Golden Teacher, the brothers Pitt conjure mutant Afro-house grooves while Scott throws in shards of no-wave guitar and the clarinettist squawks and does the hula-hoop. Rough around the edges, but an exciting prospect.
A gloriously cracked Acrid Lactations set takes in sea-sick accordion, wonky tape chunder and an amplified toy car. It reaches a sublimely silly climax with Susan Fitzpatrick fervently reading from the Bible in a Pam Ayres voice.
Okishima Island Tourist Association carve their noise with horribly exquisite precision. Under a relentless strobe light, Lea 'Kylie Minoise' Cummings and Sarah Glass build a teeming mass of metallic distortion and high-pressure screech. This sinister ritual finally explodes in a dark ecstasy of ragged throats and writhing bodies.
Having swapped the noise-rock fury of Divorce for the more melodic Palms, Sinead Young has found an outlet for that wonderfully Scottish roar of hers in World Peace. Swaggering basslines and frisky guitar jabs further animate their raw punky romps.
Both Io Pan and Kenny Love inhabit a space where noise and electronica converge. Channelling the crepuscular industrial of Coil and the tar-pit techno of Raime, Io Pan magicks glacial drones, yellow gasses and acid-rain percussion. Love, meanwhile, reimagines techno from the databanks of a cyborg whose circuits have overloaded. Stefan Blomeier's acid house and cosmic disco leads us back to the dancefloor, before Undulating Gland bring the day to an exhilarating close with an in-your-face set of breathless garage rock bomp.