BUNKER: CUT HANDS, CONTAINER + BLOOD MUSIC

The Island, Bristol | November 22nd

Following the recent closure of Bristol’s Motorcycle Showrooms, the abandoned Bridewell Prison Cells buried under The Island complex feels like the venue most capable of filling the city’s arty-party void. After entering the dark, long, low tunnel that serves as the space for tonight’s proceedings, we arrive just in time to witness Blood Music kick things into gear.

A full live band, their dedicated drummer pounds out relentless post-punk rhythms while the other two members flit between synths, guitars and enormous floor-toms, generating an intense, visceral effect. Next up, is Nashville noise merchant Container. Utilising a cheap Roland groove box, a 4-track and a bunch of pedals, he pushes out pummelling techno that rarely dips below 140bpm. Brutal kicks puncture the 4-track’s howling feedback and somehow a heady, potent groove builds up in the process. There’s lot discussion about punk sensibility creeping back into dance music right now, and for us Container is a thrilling example that supports the argument.

Filling in the gaps between tonight’s headliners are the Quietus-affiliated DJs Rory Gibb and Luke Turner. Sticking to an entirely relevant selection of grumpy techno, rhythmo-noise, and Bristol-centric unclassifiables (Kowton’s Jeremih refix is an especially excellent inclusion) they kept the expectant crowd bubbling under as each act assembled their equipment at the other end of the room.

Last to take to the floor is Cut Hands, the afro-noise project from Whitehouse’s William Bennett. Beginning with layers of noise and static, he soon conjures up discombobulating assemblages of rhythmic syncopation. On his recorded output, the tracks come across as eminently danceable constructions, but live he pushes them around so they act more are confusers than signifiers of dance. Much like Mark Fell’s music, it conforms only to its own personal structures. Combined with rare footage of traditional African dance that Bennett simultaneous controls alongside the music, it proves to be an unsettling end to an uncompromising night.

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Words: Steve Dores