ultraviolence, homoerotic country and power electronics

Ultraviolence, Homoerotic Country, and Power Electronics

The end of the world (in a good way) in Fortitude Valley. By Lachlan Bond

I did not expect my first interview at a noise rock gig to be about bagpipes and homoerotic country music. But the unquestionable link between black metal and Orville Peck style innuendo was presenting itself so clearly, in the form of Simmo, just reinforcing the beautiful absurdity of the Brisbane underground.

“I wanted something to pass around the campfire…Bagpipes [didn’t exactly suit that.]”

Simmo, the opening act that night at King Lear’s Throne, had an interesting rise to his current musicianship as a member of the Suicide Country Hour, a hardcore country band. Growing up primarily involved in the punk scene, especially in his 20s, Simmo had toured internationally with a punk act, making him knowledgeable in all things loud and abrasive within the underground. Before the bands started playing, I asked him about how black metal/hardcore/punk/whathave-you artists use their music to aggressively portray dark themes.

“Well…[the playing] is easy [for the country music]. It’s about being able to explore those themes and address them…And in country music, you’re really talking about the same stuff. Suicide, drought, [the hardships are always there. In the music.]”

He shared a story of how, after singing a song about a character struggling with depression, he had a mother come up to him from the crowd, asking him to talk personally with her son on the phone. Although humble, he was subtly happy with the impacts he was making through his music, smiling as he told the story. His catchy, flowing country set reflected his elate compassion to the music he makes—with comedic references to his everyday life and brooding, emotional ballads in equal allocation. Serving as a bizarre reminder that I was in the Brisbane underground scene, Simmo’s harmonious playing and silky voice was immediately followed by the band I was there to photograph. An experimental noise rock band by the name of Gallery of Violence. I can’t remember the exact state of the lead singer/guitarist’s shirt at the beginning of the performance, but by the end it had gashes large enough to show off tattoos of enigmatic spectres and violence in ink.

Gallery are not your standard rock band. They’re a noise rock two piece, with guitar and drums (like Lightning Bolt or Hella), but also make use of an impressive assortment of pedals and electronic noisemakers. At one point, for instance, the lead guitarist played a cutting guitar chord, sampled it, looped it, then basked in the feedback of the amps as he reformed the otherworldly noises coming out of the amps through his pedals—adjusting different unholy parts of the noise with his right hand, his left hand, and his nose. This is, of course, as the drummer plays an off-kilter fusion of black metal and jazz drums in a contemptuous melody. Where the guitarist throws his body around the stage, flicking his hair in every direction and crushing his hand into his guitar, the drummer serves as a kind of eye in the storm. He is unlike any other drummer I’ve seen in the Brisbane underground. Where some bands will quite literally start dismantling their drum kit and leap into the audience, Gallery’s drummer waves his drumsticks calmly, like a magic wand, while somehow maintaining an inhuman kick drum pattern of doubles and triplets.

One of the few times I could catch his face on video, through his hair, he displayed no reaction to the intense feedback of the amps he sat next to. At one point I think he nearly yawned (while playing the black metal jazz pattern perfectly). Unlike Simmo’s country-fusion songs that subtly tackle topics like depression and loneliness, Gallery approach songwriting with the same gall as 90s hardcore acts like Unsane and Mayhem.

They are not afraid to supplement their symbolic nods to comic-book-like mutilation with quite disconcerting imagery similar to some of J.G. Ballard’s even more creepy and scary stuff. Unlike J.G. Ballard’s works, though, the violence in their music serves a clear purpose:

“[We present a] more coherent version of a primal sound. [And really, it’s about] confronting the inevitable.”

Gallery told me that they present their music as a way to explore and deconstruct the violence we see around us every day. They take the cores of different genres of music—the riffs of thrash, Zach Hill math rock drum blasts, and the esoteric static of Sunn O))’s black metal and mesh it into their own take on experimental noise rock. Just like their deconstructions of individual acts of bizarre and random violence in the world, they pick the most impactful snapshots of other genres and use them to support their intense and provocative sound.

But they never condone or support the violence of everyday life—they provide a means to understand it, and to euthanize it through their harsh, but technically and artistically impressive music. Their approach to violence, tackling macabre themes with surrealist smogs of feedback and static, provides a stark contrast to the actual guys in question. It was strange to see the contortionist, screaming guitarist walk out of the bar with a perk in his step, smiling and noodling with the band’s drummer. For people who had previously played in front of a projected arthouse film with decaying corpses (they said they wouldn’t do that anymore, now), they were surprisingly candid. Their chemistry as musicians, and as friends, serves as a parallel to the music they make. Just like the small slivers of peace they find in the violent world around us, they can take a moment in the middle of a pandemic and environmental disasters to smile in the face of adversity.

It would be ridiculous to avoid mentioning the last act of the night, the grindcore/power-electronics trio Skirmisher, who have the innate ability to join harsh noise with the rock-influenced flow of noise pop. With the press of one button, the band’s lead singer / programmer unleashes a demented screech of distortion. Even at 11pm, the lead singer drew from some kind of a divine energy source to lunge into the audience, wailing, even going as far as to scream into a confused man’s face (a reminder that this is following Gallery of Violence and Simmo’s country set) and start rolling on the floor. Skirmisher recently played a skate park gig, and I can imagine that they bring the unbridled aggression of the twenty-something noise-skate-punk scene anywhere they go. I’ve included a picture of the lead singer thrashing. Ultimately, if you’re looking for art-house noise rock, homoerotic country, or power electronics, go to underground gigs up in Brisbane. My words cannot reflect the beautiful, spiritual nature of King Lear’s Throne on any given Friday night.

Gallery of Violence are amazing, make sure you can go see them if you get the chance. They have an upcoming EP, “House of No Nails”, and are playing at the Greaser Bar in Brisbane on the 30th of April (subject to change).

GALLERY OF VIOLENCE: @galleryofviolence

SKIRMISHER: @skirmisherpv

SUICIDE COUNTRY HOUR (with Simmo): @ suicidecountryhour

KING LEAR’S THRONE: @kinglearsthrone