It’s an inspired decision to put US noise champions Wolf Eyes alongside the Aphex Twin on this Triptych billing, as it exposes some surprising links between two very different acts. Their scuzzy spew is from the dark, violent corners of music, where electronics, guitars and DIY shit burst from a flesh of wires. The three-man line-up of Mike Connelly, Nate Young and John Olson look like a metal band, all leather, screams and agony, but their mirthful eye for the devious takes them beyond histrionics into base sonic torture. The band mix tonal drones and fist-pumping noise attacks with an attention to suspense that betrays their horror aesthetic, and the writhing mayhem of their more aggressive songs have the power to really fuck up a lot of the more avid fans down in the front. The connection with Aphex Twin’s maniacal beatmangling is clear. A few can be heard to complain that Wolf Eyes are ‘`just noise’; god knows what these people are expecting from support for the man who released ‘`Drukqs’.
Rephlex act The Bug don’t bridge the musical gap between the opener and headliner, but they do work on getting some rhythm into the Barras crowd. Aided by MCs Warrior Queen and Ras B, The Bug AKA Keven Martin pumps out two-step machine-gun dub for the gut. Heavy bass and clipped beats channel deep, deep rhythm that hits hard and low, but the MCs’ bawling does little more than add variety, seldom appearing as clearly or brutally as on record. The Bug’s tech assaults and rattling beats still make for a great set, but it is lacking the in-your-face intimacy that comes with such dark, lurching music. One suspects a club night would be their ideal setting, rather than the pedestal of the Barras stage.
There’s no such problem for the Aphex Twin, who kicks off his laptop-only set with the kind of accessible hiphop beats that have opened many of his recent sets. It’s pleasant for a while, but after about half an hour you can’t help but pine for some of the evil shit; he’s so safe he’s even playing some of his old material from Classics. The proper terrorism only kicks in after an hour, when he starts with the drum’n’bass and everything gets distorted. Beats fly by too fast for themselves and noise encroaches on the amen breaks, and James starts to mix in his more bizarre songs, such as the mentally undanceable ‘`Bucephalus Bouncing Ball’ from the Come to Daddy EP. The man himself is still static behind the laptop, only occasionally saluting the spasmodic pile of bodies before him, but his semi-mythical remove from proceedings only enhances the brutality of the crunching music that he hurls at the audience. This is more like it: beat violence makes an Aphex Twin live set, and it closes the night on a suitably deranged note.
