Announced as one of the
hottest days of the year, and one of the hottest days
ever in the UK, this Thursday was never going to be
an ordinary day. For this second consecutive sold out
London show, Squarepusher was setting the agenda in
the blistering British capital from the deck of the
HMS President, an old British Navy hospital ship. On
the previous night, Tom ‘Squarepusher’ Jenkinson,
supported by Luke Vibert, had already had the electronic
world talking, and this second night, with his mate
Richard ‘AFX’ James warming up the crowd
for him, promised to be absolutely legendary.
First in line was AFX. As the crowd was just being
allowed on board, with the security team filtering people
rather slowly, most unfortunately missed the early part
of Richard D. James’s selection. Originally set
firmly in SAW2 territory, he articulated some dense
vaporous structures for some time, before progressively
integrating beats, bass, and eventually bringing the
still growing crowd back to 1989 with some devastating
bursts of 303. Very calm and controlled behind his machines,
Richard retained the early acid flavours for a good
forty five minutes, clearly pleasing his audience, which,
from sitting down in the first half hour, eventually
stood up as the venue was progressively filling up and
the temperature was increasing. Dancing to James’s
excellent beats, the crowd could also glance at the
Thames on the left hand side, through the huge bay windows,
dominated on the right bank by the increasingly prominent
red neon lights of the Oxo tower. Obviously enjoying
the reception of the crowd, yet remaining rather stern
behind his desks, only occasionally staring at dancers
with his fist in the air, Richard continued to increase
the pace. After approximately forty minutes of decadent
acid, the drums appeared to stumble, the bass became
more syncopated, the noises more abrasive. Drill’n’bass
it was going to be, and, considering the reaction of
the crowd, most were there just for that. For a further
thirty minutes, James prepared the ground for Squarepusher
in outstanding fashion, before eventually returning
at his exact starting point.
To allow for a change of gear on stage, the utterly
intriguing and barmy Cassetteboy pair entertained the
bewildered few who had dared remaining in the room while
the great majority were taking advantage of the two
bars and, mostly, of the rear opened platform, which
provided a welcome cooler place. While a few grabbed
the chance to talk to Richard D. James, the Cassetteboy
duo, one dressed as a council estate George Bush, complete
with tracksuit bottom, and the other, wearing a flowery
dress and a Tony Blair masque, played havoc on sonic
montages made of excerpts of speeches from the two World
leaders mixed with film dialogues and a variety of other
sources.
By the time Tom Jenkinson walked on stage, the room
had filled up again. Kicking off in rather subdued mode,
with his bass in hands and his laptop in front of him,
Squarepusher rapidly got down to proper business, injecting
some nasty beats and harsh sounds into his jazz-infused
openers. In near total darkness, with only flashing
strob lightings directed at the crowd, Tom embarked
on a frantic mix of old and new tracks, taken from his
forthcoming album. Judging by the rough nature of these
new compositions, it is to be expected than the next
Squarepusher album is far from marking the beginning
of a more quiet period for Mr. Jenkinson. By the end
of the first twenty minutes of his set, the temperature
inside HMS President was set to break every records.
This didn’t put the Pusher’s fans off. Quite
the opposite in fact as more poured in the room, as
Tom was hammering his audience with massive walls of
sounds, played at deafening level. Just past the half
mark, Tom faced technical problems, with his laptop
screen momentarily letting him down. Although visibly
annoyed by the issue, Tom turned to the crowd and shouted
“Fuck the fucking screen!” before improvising
on his bass while a couple of technicians frantically
tried to fix the screen, much to the joy of the audience.
Five minutes on and everything was back to normal. As
the gig was reaching its peak, a few revellers were
noticed trying to catch their breath in the bar before
returning for more dancing. A further twenty minutes
or so and it was time for Tom to round up his set, but
the audience was not to let him go without a fight,
and after walking out, he returned for a handful more
cataclysmic moments before finally leaving for good.
Believing what this reviewer heard a member of security
say when leaving the venue, the level of noise attracted
a number of complaints from local residents. Yet, nobody
on board the HMS President complained, too busy enjoying
a surprisingly good English summer and a night that
kept its promises from start to finish… |
