When it comes to a live performance, White Lung can’t be blamed for weak efforts. Their performance had so many breakneck riffs, cyclonic drum beats and crushing bass that no ear was left unringing – exactly how noise punk should be.
The pleasure in the varied lineup was that every band was worth watching, nothing got too tedious or monotonous from listening to too much of the same genre, and there was every chance you’d pick up on a band you otherwise wouldn’t have listened to.
Cue Phantastic Ferniture. The Julia Jacklin-fronted act, performing after local sludge/punk stalwarts Batpiss, took things to an unexpectedly chilled out level with something that sounded closer to traditional folk/rock with sharper riffs. In what seemed like a warm departure from her wistful alt-country/indie solo project, Jacklin’s dusty vocals acted as an excellent accompaniment to the band’s faster paced indie rock sensibilities. In many ways it was more listener friendly, thanks to familiar, fast paced instrumentals – yet the real pearl in this oyster was Jacklin’s voice which coloured the band as a contemporary Fleetwood Mac.
White Lung offered a tidy precision to a turbo-charged performance. The guitar had whips of intense shredding trying to fly over the rest of the instruments, but somehow fell underneath it all, leaving what was actually happening a little less clear than hoped for. The vocals fell victim to this as well, yet after some mixing half way, they rose to the forefront of an energetic and engaging show.
The technicality behind it all was breathtaking. Watching guitarist Kenneth William perform was a spectacle in itself as he alternated between high gain shredding on his guitar to what looked to be precise taps of synth samplers on the floor in front of him. The balance between these two sounds created a polarising form of song structure, both tense yet ethereal. Half the set felt like intricate, in your face post-punk, while the other half took a tinge of ‘90s skate punk and pumped it full of crack.
The drumming was something to write home about. Looking at Anne-Marie Vassilliou pummelling the crap out of her kit was a form of art – the precision was not so much a counterbalance to the pure fury of her efforts, but rather a fantastic accompaniment. With the microphone finally mixed to suit her voice, vocalist Mish Barber Way also managed to put on an enigmatic performance of howls and cleaner singing, yet another clever contrast in a band that could easily be defined by them.
Words by Thomas Brand
Image by Dan Wallwork
Highlight: The shredding, and catching a bunch of mates.
Lowlight: Sound quality left a bit to be desired.
Crowd Favourite: Drown With The Monster
