“The power of the band is their subtle nuances.”

“The last time I saw them I couldn’t hear properly for days.”

“As long as Sunn O))) exist, drone will never die.”

“Remember, at Primavera when they had to close every stage, apart from the main one, as they couldn’t be heard over Sunn O))).”

“They could be the last proper rock band.”

“Wouldn’t it be funny if they just played ‘(Don’t Fear) The Reaper’ or ‘The Number of the Beast’ as an encore?”

These are all parts of stolen conversations I heard in the pub before going to see Sunn O))). All of these comments are technically true, but they don’t really set you up for what you are about to experience.

The Concorde 2 was sweltering so I stood by the open fire exit to get some fresh air, before the room was sealed shut like a tomb. As I was looking out I saw people jogging, playing volleyball, and families out having a picnic on the beach. This juxtaposition was not lost on me as the door slowly closed, and the dry ice machine went into overdrive. When the gig started, vocalist Attila Csihar took to the stage in a hooded cloak that could easily have given Christopher Lee a run for his money as Rasputin. Csihar then began to sing viscerally in his native Hungarian. It ranged from extreme Gregorian chants to guttural throat noises. After about ten minutes of this (yet it could have been an hour as time had lost all meaning), the wall of dry ice drifted away to reveal the rest of the band behind him, like a Gothic Polyphonic Spree, but with less members. And we were off.

Anyone who has heard a Sunn O))) track, or album, will know exactly what happened for the next 70 minutes, but if you have stumbled upon this review by chance I’ll do my best to explain. Low bass rumbles were joined with a dark and brooding synth/keyboard, there was too much dry ice to tell, while a guitar played minimal, but decisive, guitar notes and runs. All the while Csihar continued his terrifying vocal delivery. At times the obsidian guitar progressions changed up, and down, and it was these changes that had the most effect as it refocused your attention and pulled you in further, like a net made of molasses. As the set continued the four hooded figures on stage became more and more eclipsed from view by the swaths of dry ice, but were back lit by orange, blue and purple lights, making them feel like the house band for Dante’s Inferno.

So far, the eagle eyed of you will have noticed I haven’t mentioned how loud they were. This is because I thought it didn’t need to be laboured all the time as to the sheer volume of their collective efforts, but I’ll mention it here so the sadomasochists can get their little kick. When Csihar started singing, the bass in his voice was enough to make a pint bounce until it fell off a shelf onto the floor. And this was a capella. When the band started, a wall of warm air hit you and made your hair move. As the set continued the monolithic rumblings grew and grew. Then, about three quarters of the way through the set, Sunn O))) found another monumental level and it stayed there until the end. It wasn’t the loudest gig I’d been to, Swans, My Bloody Valentine, Lightning Bolt, Sludgefeast and Blanck Mass can all fight for that honour, but it wasn’t far off.

Sunn O))) aren’t a band you watch. They are a band you experience. Every note they play, you feel. I don’t mean on a literal sense, as you might have with a singer-songwriter, but in a physical way. With the stroke of a string, or key, you feel their music in your chest, stomach, ribs, eyes and weirdly my wrists. After a while you lose all notion of time, location and everything in your life dissolves around you as you are pulled into their dark and heavy world view. But the beauty of the band is that they don’t do a lot, but what they do is noticeable and memorable. I’m not saying that they just stand on stage motionless like Stonehenge, surrounded by dry ice, although technically this is true but, because their music is so repetitive, when they do change it gets your attention, draws you in again and makes you question your preconceived ideas of music and performance.

Nick Roseblade

Website: sunn.southernlord.com
Facebook: facebook.com/SUNNthebandOfficial