As with every other year this century, The Necks took their annual trek to the Corner Hotel to play a run of shows. Except that this was not a bona fide Necks show. The trio was reduced by the absence of Lloyd Swanton who could not participate on this tour due to an accident involving his son. It was not even a duo, as Chris Abrahams and Tony Buck elected no to distort the legacy of The Necks by engaging a stand in. Instead, the night comprised two prolonged solo sets. A toss of a coin preceded what may have been a folie de grandeur was instead an intriguing night of abstraction and improvisation.
Chris Abrahams was first to take the stage and lorded nimbly over the keys with tact. Sometimes there was the malevolence of Nosferatu as he commandeered his instrument with guile and discipline but with enough venom as if he was trying to escape an invisible straitjacket. The seated environment was well suited to this performance as the knowledgeable audience appreciated every unexpected note and reached their inner nirvana.
A short break ensued before Tony Buck stepped onstage and was almost apologetic when explaining the similarity of the repertoire of the shows and the repetition before concluding that if anyone appreciates repetition it is a Necks audience. Buck then gave something of a percussive master class. Unconstricted control was the order of the day. With the accompaniment of what Buck described as “field recordings”, which appeared to be of someone on cobblestone streets, it strangely evoked Autobahn. But Buck picks the pocket of ideas with some ponderous drumming as if he was entering the anteroom of eternity.
Obviously not a conventional The Necks show, if The Necks could ever be described as conventional, the experience and resilience of the playing was at the forefront creating all sorts of apparitions. As the punters stepped out into a drizzly midweek night, they could be well pleased with having been privy to the spectacle of free sound of quality.
BY BRONIUS ZUMERIS
Loved: What’s not to love?
Hated: Ticket inspectors with no idea.
Drank: Swedish Christmas wine.
