The Space Lady + Special Guest Dean Blunt
The Cube, Bristol | 19 April
Now that The Cube’s future is secure (following months of fundraising, charitable donations and the anonymous gifting of an original Banksy artwork by someone – probably Banksy), it now feels like a genuine hub of avant-garde, experimental art, music and cinema. Tonight’s programme is a powerful example of how far things can be pushed when music that lives beyond the peripheries is invited to exist, for a moment, on the inside.
Wanda Group is the first to stand up in front of the sold-out theatre and give everything away. It seems impossible to talk about his music without at least referring to his Twitter, which may initially seem frustrating, but you soon come to realise that these are two sides of the same coin. Both this online persona and his art are the mediums through which he chooses to push things out of himself, to provide catharsis on a public level. His confusing, psychedelic collage of field recordings and indeterminable frequencies is initially overwhelming, but the longer you listen the more you hear. It’s refreshing to experience something with literally no rhythm at all, and to embrace the lack of understanding that comes with it.
Wanda Group clearly enjoyed himself too: “BRISTOL WAS CLASS. THE SOUND WAS FUCKIN FULL OF ENERGY. THE PEOPLE, THE SAME. A GREAT VENUE. THE CUBE. WHAT A FUCKIN AREA. THANKS.”
The Space Lady’s endearing performance couldn’t have been more different in tone from what came before, but this was an evening which thrived on contrast. Exuding genuine warmth and humility, she rattled through an otherworldly set of covers (Born To Be Wild a particular highlight) in her self-described ‘hi-tech on the street’ style, winning over an audience that didn’t need winning over in the first place. As her version of John Lennon’s Imagine faded away, everyone rose from their seats in applause, getting slightly closer to the Space Lady’s home at the same time.
Having seen Dean Blunt play only a few months previously at the larger, sharper Arnolfini, we were curious to see how the Cube’s interior would reflect his performance. It proved to be darker, angrier and infinitely more claustrophobic. The Arnolfini show had seen Blunt sad, introspective and contemplative; here he seemed pissed off, frustrated. Whether he was tired of playing this routine (which contained an impressive amount of new material, including an extended free-jazz interlude, complete with barely brace-wielding musicians), or had something new on his mind since we last crossed paths it was hard to say. But it without a doubt manifested as a rawer and more self-destructive act.
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Words: Steven Dores
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