Technohell 3 - Terrorvision Gluepot Fri 18th March

Ascending the stairs I obligingly catch a waft of the ferocious crackdown intensity of Yugoslav duo In Sotto Voce inciting custom to "Move your body, shake your body, let your body take CON-TROL !" Indeed Bizarre Beats are in their element warming up a growing menagerie of subversives filing across the cavernous venue into the white paper "Sensurround video trip cube" Entering this construction immediately fronting and enveloping the stage is the only visible means from which to observe the psychic terrorism therein created. The "cube" is resplendent with mind tripping computer graphic visuals and slides splashed across the walls charged with strobes, smoke machines, and the spinning "Dream Machine" originally designed by Brian Gysin and William S Buroughs to enhance neurological alpha-rhythm stimulation. In passing, one of the evenings costumed performers so mildly quotes from Hellraiser's dear Pinhead - "You openned the box. We came"
First performance of the evenning eminates from a poet and guitar driven orchestral score followed shortly by four lumps of RAW MEAT FOR THE BALCONY, responsible for constucting a manic industrial Dat driven groove layered with fat, pounding guitars. A most impressive debut from an as yet unknown lump, catching fast to a sure fire remedy of hard, grinding dancable shit. After a brief respite the duo comprising Compulsory Joy appear from darkness and commit the audience to a short set of aural synthesis with Bruce Hubbard on vocals hovering between the floor and the microphone firing vocal bursts in a somewhat grave and monotonous tone. Certainly no comparison to the weird and wonderful MINISTRY OF COMPULSORY JOY circa 1988. 89....
DEBASE are up next featuring Greg from Lungfeast. Heres two guys with guitars riveted to their thighs !
To be honest, I missed most of their performance although the crashing sound eminating from the trip cube was, for the most part a drawn out guitar frenzy without noticable technologically induced sounds. Curious. The cube is filling up by this time, a large crowd thronging forward of the mixing desk leaving a handful of groovers to thier dancing devices. And who better to get them onto the dancefloor but an inspired combination of WHINGE and FRUIT.
WHINGE are 2 young guys feeding dulcet information into the audience via their computer equipment, generating an unnerving ambient industrial soundscape. Partly through their set, solo artist FRUIT, slowly feeds a selection of bass and keyboard samples into the overall blend ultimately cranking volume and acidic intensity into a feverpitch rave concoction. True advocates of technology at its most demonstrative, and indeed a selection of people are by now spazzing out in front of the stage, smoke filling the void and bringing to life the strobes and coloured lights. Technohell is starting to practice what it preaches. Excitement (perhaps tension) is building and the interacting of terror and vision is unwound to climax in a bizarre and brillant way. Expected highlight of the night, HIERONYMUS BOSCH take centre stage and proceed to exhume the fettered corpse of industrial music, resplendent with well orchestrated metal percussion and skull splitting keyboard samples layered Max Egos rancid howling.
Anarcho performance troupe the RANDOM TROLLOPS emerged from the audience with 2 of the black plastic clad performers duelling each other in some form of ritual abuse eventually turning their attentions to the chase and capture of wayward painted, naked human cows running rampant across the stage hoping not to get their heads strung from the tree of severed and bloody cow heads to the side fo the stage. Imagine this chaos while BOSCH, bathed in a post apocalyptic red glow, are screaming in harrowed crushing tones across the mesmerised and battered audience. The sound is impenetrable, yet strangely welcome. Hell has reasons which reason knows not of. Most deserved congratulations to the organisers and peformers for an innovative and entertaining evening. If only I could get the shards of sampled noise to exit my brain cavity!
by Heath Burgoyne