Inside an old paper factory out near the airport, a phantasmagoria of boundary pushing art, music, spoken word and dance has taken root.
It may initially seem like a fairly inauspicious corner of the city but inside, the dedicated Hidden Door crew have been hard at work on their most ambitious project yet. There’s still plenty of stuff that the foolhardy could lose a finger on but the print factory has near infinite nooks and crannies for curious goings on to take place and for five days they’ve been filled with everything from starkly lit interpretative dance performances to cabinets of curious creatures scavenged from waste material.
Music fans better get used to trekking out to this side of town too, with the new Edinburgh Arena set to take shape just around the corner.
Inside the Paper Factory, it’s easy to miss the musical entertainment because you’ve fallen down another rabbit hole of exploration. However, this writer is glad they caught Copenhagen trio Smeg Pa Dig Selv whose riotous mix of ska, drum and bass, brass and rave whistles has bags of energy. The two brass players climb the the speakers even as floor shaking bass rattles the room but just when you think you have got a handle on the madness they throw manic bird noises into the mix too.
Over on the main stage, Bikini Body’s pummelling post-punk funk seems made for industrial settings. The early songs show touches of Wire or Gang of Four and The Slits before the second half of the set takes things in more of an indie disco direction with heavy use of cowbell and catchy tracks like The News.
In a venue made for wandering, there is no shortage of helpful volunteers and ample bars but perhaps it could use some better labelling of which stage is which.
After a brief blast of Spectral’s sinister ambient sound design in the vast Crane Room, it’s time for the splendidly surreal sounds of Mermaid Chunky, a Gloucestershire duo who are part French pierrot clowns, part rare fungus and part a kind of kawaii Björk.
With synths, drum machines and a glittery recorder, the pair make strange and elongated musical pieces backed by some impressive video backdrops. Their great triumph is that this comes across as playful and welcoming rather than off putting.
As the set reaches its apex, they encourage the audience to link arms and spin one another in the most fun new bit of audience interaction that I have seen in a while. There are massive grins everywhere, not least for final song chaperone which feels like Donna Summer’s ‘I Feel Love’ if it was made on magic mushrooms instead of cocaine.
Finally it’s time for Snapped Ankles, whose stage banner fiercely proclaims “Hard times, furious dancing”. Amidst hulking pieces of machinery, their set involves thundering synth riffs played by people in head torches, masks, ghillie suits and high vis jackets, giving it the vibe of some kind of apocalyptic rave.
Their vocalist wields a pair of microphones while razor-edged synth arpeggios trigger limbs everywhere. There’s even a sinister interpolation of ‘Good Vibrations’, to mark the passing of Brian Wilson.
Deciding that this is a little frantic for midweek, I decided to catch a dose of Production Line Of Dreams, a deadpan musical performance art exploration of mass production, working week drudgery and AI told through beat poetry and Suzi Cunningham’s expressive dancing. It’s a fittingly strange to finish an impressive first night at Hidden Door.
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