event - merzbow at xoyo, london

27th october

Not sounding anything like the warped noise of Merzbow himself, the first band on have presumably been plucked out of East London for the volume they create. Their music is noisy, but born out of rock traditions and

instruments, and with no laptops in sight. They come onto the small stage very casually, and start with Shellac-esque atonal riffing that takes a few minutes to grow into something more catchy and conventional. The transition is carried out expertly as they move through noise rock, sludge, stoner and doom and all the way back again. What's even better is the way they strike a consistent tone – the singer's distorted, angry screams do most of the work, and hint ever so slightly at the angst of Harvey Milk's Creston Piers. It's hard hitting but captivating and a lot of fun to watch, and much better than the few recordings available online at this point would suggest.

Next on are Nadja. Aidan Baker is a very busy man, releasing several albums a year under his own name but a finding the time to collaborate with the likes of Tim Hecker and as with Nadja, 'bookbinder' Leah Buckareff. Things start well, fierce guitar and bass drones being processed through a tabletop covered in samplers, effects pedals and mixers, some looping the sounds while others play progressive drum patterns and spoken word samples.

Sadly, the reliance on technology takes its toll when the power shorts, cutting out everything. Obvious frustration from the band is greeted with a we-know-it's-not-your-fault round of applause and calls for an unplugged show, but the sound man comes on and seems to get things back on track. They abandon the loops they'd been building for the past fifteen minutes and try a different song, but this only lasts about five minutes before everything trips again. They soldier on, and move into a haunting piece with murmuring samples and rich stringed harmonies. Again the sound man comes on to sort the next power failure but the recurring problem is really starting to interfere, and after a few more outages Aidan says they'll have one last go until it cuts out for the final time. They don't last thirty seconds and a gutted Nadja leaves with a great and very understanding reception. In better circumstances they'd surely be sublime, but it was hard to get totally involved with the fear that everything could stop at any moment.

In spite of the venue's best efforts, Masami Akita has been recording under the name of Merzbow for over thirty years and it'd take a staggeringly bad set up to stunt him. He senses that a large amp on the left isn't working and sorts it out well before starting, and with that there are no more technical issues. Joining him is Hungarian metal drummer Balázs Pándi, who gives extra bite without laying down too tight a structure over Merzbow's often searching sounds.

And it's an absolute onslaught – Akita rarely pauses, with Pándi spending most of the time pounding away somewhere in the middle of the mix. He plays his strangely assembled guitar-like instrument resembling both a

defibrillator and a dystopian Japanese landscape. It lives up to its looks, producing all the harshness and dissonance you'd expect from someone who sticks so rigidly to a formula of white noise. His interest in BDSM definitely comes across, appearing calm and collected as he does, sat at his office desk while subjecting the entire audience to the most nightmarish aural monsters he's collected and built over the course of his career. When it finally does come to an end there's a sense of relief, especially for the sake of tortured ears, but there's an unsettling desire for it to continue. It's not quite victim's guilt, but a longing for the intense, carefully structured extremes that he conjures up so readily.

Originally posted on Rare FM

event - health at ec2 warehouse, london

16th october

Coming on just after midnight, HEALTH were the main event at the first night of Lanzarote, a new club night and live music venture in London. The idea is to put bands and DJs on at hours

normally expected of clubs and to do it in mostly improvised venues. Tonight's event took place on Great Eastern Street in the basement of what looked like an office building, and featured several DJs including Hounds of Hate, Richard Fearless and Andrew Hung. There was also a support slot from upcoming post-dubsteppers Dam Mantle, who built up a fair bit of atmosphere in their twenty five minutes on stage.

So the night worked. Sort of. It was a sloppy conversion, with minimal toilet facilities and a simple paint job. But the worrying part of it was the set up of two lighting rigs and two speaker stacks. They looked precarious, placed on either side of the small stage, and later pushed to their limits during HEALTH'S set. Either through inexperience or laziness, or maybe the fact that the only act anyone was here to see were coming on after midnight, the place had a sterile atmosphere for a long time, only really broken up by Dam Mantle's funky, energetic shuffles. All that was about to change though.

About fifteen minutes after soundcheck, HEALTH returned to the stage, and singer Jake explains that there was nothing rock 'n' roll about their

disappearance: "we walked up to the top of the stairs, and then I started crying, and..." But he suffers an aural ambush from the rest of the band and never finishes, instead hurling glitchy, violent tones into the burgeoning mosh pit. What was a tame, slightly bored crowd has been turned on its head, and quite literally for those taking part in the projectile crowdsurfing that begins straight away. Hours of no readmission have taken their toll, and people are snatching the opportunity to lose themselves in HEALTH's onstage intensity.

The songs from their latest, Get Color, just feel so much more important live. The breakdowns in Nice Girls are tight and ominous, giving John a breather from his sinusoidal bass-swinging and letting his hair calm down. The dynamics are fully accentuated in such a small live setting, and it's the range of volumes, tempos and instruments playing at the same time that really excite, not just the fact that they can recreate their spooky sound perfectly in a whitewashed cellar.

They play some new material, which sounds very promising, and close the set with Heaven from their debut, recent semi-hit singles Die Slow and We Are Water and USA Boys from their latest release, remix album DISCO2. The speakers look like they're actually going to fall over on many occasions, the light fittings rock around from time to time, and inevitably the band decides the crowd is 'pumped' enough for an encore. Finishing up at about half past one, HEALTH are certainly a band worth sticking around for.

event - oceansize at koko, london

1st october

Playing a one-off support slot for Oceansize on their current European tour, Yndi Halda are an unexpected treat. Sadly though, time constraints mean that what was intended to be a swift two-song set is cut down without the band's

knowledge to a meagre one-and-a-half. By the standards of most this wouldn't be much stage time but Yndi Halda get around half an hour, managing to showcase what they're most widely praised for as well as giving a taste of what's to come. After a good stint in post-rock done to perfection where the band move in sinuous, tectonic synchronisation, they introduce a new song, which retains only some of these elements. There are vocals now, and acoustic guitar tapped at the harmonic intervals. It's still as spacious and complex as the first song, but it's more delicate, using subtler dynamics than changes in volume. It's a real shame to see it cut short, but the band promises to play a full set next time. Let's hold them to it.

Next up are This Town Needs Guns, and while they stay true to the math-rock sensibilities of fellow Oxford bands Youthmovies and Foals, they have all the technical abilities of the latter without the pomposity.

When playing tracks from 2008's Animals they do have the tendency to lose themselves in complex rhythms and self-regarding finger-tapping, but on new material they recover the crunch and the heart of their earlier sound, making whatever they release next something to look forward to. The announcement that they'll play old favourite 26 is Dancier than 4 is greeted with many cheers, and they go so much further than on the studio recording, Stuart Smith looking like the moment means everything to him, and moving his torso accordingly. Their ability to convey emotion alongside obvious proficiency is what marks them out from their peers, and they don't do it any better than when they're on stage.

Taking the stage at a slightly premature ten past eight, Oceansize waste no time introducing themselves and dive straight into Part Cardiac, the opener from recent full length Self Preserved While the Bodies Float Up, which you can read about here. It's intense, it's frightening and it's the only song they'll play that sounds at all like this. But that's what makes Oceansize such a fantastic live experience, constantly changing what they do over the course of their 90 minutes. They create huge swells of distortion, intricate three-part guitar patterns, and show they can do anything the two bands we've already seen tonight can do.

The loyalty among their fans is obvious, with practically every song getting a cheer in its opening moments, but the reception to their latest album is just as warm as for the old favourites like Ornament/The Last Wrongs. Singer Mike Vennart says the new one's their

best album and, maybe realising the faux pas he's just made, simply reaffirms what he's said. And for the first time in musical history he may actually be right. In any case, everything they play is a winner, and the only noticeable discernment among the audience is when someone shouts "play something heavy". They do, of course. Highlights include Paper Champion, which builds over funky bass riffs into a menacing climax, and the encore of Women Who Love Men Who Love Drugs, the mostly instrumental saga from their debut Effloresce. It's as this song ends that they depart for the last time, one by one, until three guitars remain, repeating lush, melancholic notes that gradually quieten as enormous cheers see them off stage.