A brief migration period in Berlin happened to be the catalyst that ignited the desire within Rhys Edwards and Rhys Williams to form Ulrika Spacek (a comedic way of incorporating the names Ulrike Meinhof and Sissy Spacek). Walking through the black curtain of Green Door Store gives off the same industrialised DIY impression of the German capital and it served as the perfect backdrop for the London-based band’s epic monotonous fuzz last Wednesday.

With mind-altering visuals draped across the wall playing in sync with the music, the five-piece took the Brighton audience on a sonic transportation of melodically inclined psychedelic infused-grunge. The vast length of each of their elongated compositions allows the hypnotic loops to gently penetrate your imagination and ship you on a spaced out journey in which you gradually immerse yourself in the framework of the song; a facet that allows the listener to pick out subtle nuances which creates their own individual experience. Choosing to use sixteen bars in the majority of their arrangements, Ulrika Spacek permit themselves a licence to explore, which manifests into a blissful foray into the uncharted.

‘NK’s unassuming drum beat begins proceedings before the sinister drones of their heaviest song leads the crowd into a frenzy. ‘Strawberry Glue’ is then the perfect marriage of Deerhunter’s melodic inclinations and Sonic Youth’s ethereal guitar leads. ‘She’s A Cult’s glorious mix of delicate harmonies and severe fuzz tussles for possession before the spellbounding ‘Beta Male’ takes centre stage with its maze of jarring guitar riffs, shortly followed by ‘Porcelain’, drifting along a wave of infectious motorik.

However, one element of the band that seems to go unnoticed is the deep emotional content within their songs. When you strip back the likes of ‘Ultra Vivid’ away from their sonic bravado, there are delicate love songs in attendance which enrich the composition and add greater value to the production.

‘I Don’t Know’s rich spider web of of lo-fi fuzz then ends the night in protracted fashion, with the audience unknowingly moving their heads side to side in subconscious appreciation. The tense, unregulated rhythms coupled with the blissful layers of trippy grunge makes for a thrilling experience watching Ulrika Spacek. Then when you add in the competing harmonies and bellowing guitars on the back of patient kraut-style build up, it all packs together to create an hour of masterful soundscapes.

Paul Hill