Thursday 26 February 2015, 8pm
Triple-bill of artists on great Sheffield-basd label The Audacious Art Experiment featuring ‘aggro-beat’ three-piece Blood Sport, improv noise duo Trans/Human, and ambient drone artist Spandril.
“A glorious fusion of opposing forces… With Blood Sport, you never quite know if they’re here to start the party or to destroy it. Which, of course, is what makes them so fantastic.” – 9/10, Loud & Quiet review of Blodd Sport's LP 'Life In Units'.
Blood Sport bring their long running Republic of South Yorkshire afro-tronic aggro-beat Hybrid Vigour party hats with both live and DJ sets in celebration of their newly released album package on the blastfirstpetite label.
Adam Denton and Luke Twyman began collaborating under the name Trans/Human at The Audacious Art Experiment HQ in Sheffield during 2011.
Employing several noise making devices and techniques in their performances, including mobile phones, radio, cassette tape, prepared electric guitar, processed drums, strobe lighting, contact microphones, field recordings and feedback systems, Trans/Human’s concerns lie within the physical act of music making and its relationship to environment and audience. Through their collaboration the duo sought to reflect their inclination towards creating ritualized sonic and visual experiences via a series of improvised performances, resulting in releases, The 8 Hour Dance (The Audacious Art Experiment 2011) and The Wider (Blackest Rainbow 2012). Their latest LP, The (Un)Expected, recorded at Audacious Space, Sheffield, came out on The Audacious Art Experiment in March 2014.
TAAE’s resident lab technician Spandril mixes up an ambient dronescape of cyclic controlled chaos using customised and hand-built analogue machines alongside hand-coded digital manipulations.
“Perhaps 22/7 is the last thing I’m ever going to hear? I can’t quite identify why this tape makes me feel this way, but the silence that follows its conclusion feels eerily absolute; I’m left with the embers of the melody that has just mournfully dipped out of physical space, tracing the memory as it withers and fades, feeling as though the last sparks of the universe have just dimmed into dust. The mortality of these pieces was forewarned though, and the quiver of analogue capture is prominent – textures are coated in the coarse pockets of a deep and deathly erosion, with micro-dips in volume implanting the initial impact of a patient, mournful degeneration. 22/7 is a swan song for sound itself, crackling on the perimeter, delaying the onset of silence for just half an hour more.” – Jack Chuter, ATTN:MAGAZINE
