It’s quite rare that you see a proper post-punk band that perform and by this, I don’t mean a bunch of 17-year-olds who are pissed off that mum and dad won’t let them go out and see their girlfriend on a school night but a band that clearly have a lot of message and musicality that they want to wrap within their sound. The Ex were to descend upon The Hope and Ruin tonight, poised within all of their mythic glory and angst. Dictionary Pudding are the perfect promoter to open you up to a new vein of artists that have existed on the periphery for years which you were completely unaware of until you saw the listing go up.

The Ex hail from Amsterdam and have doodled around since 1979, pushing genres and boundaries subtly on the underground spectrum leaving the vast majority of music fans blissfully unaware of what they have done. Often described as an anarcho-punk band, they have released 20 albums since their incarnation, none of which you can find on Spotify. Their free-jazz, avant-garde folk style takes John Cale and meets him with Joni Mitchell all the while packing the intensity and vigour of Mark E Smith. So, as you can imagine, if you missed this show at The Hope, you sorely missed out.

The Ex are by no means a boring band. When a Fender Jaguar sits onstage looking as if it could fit into the works of a Mary Shelley novel with its gnarling, decapitated headstock and two bass tuning pegs soldered to the top, there lies something that instantly perks interest. Important music is something that can be defined by various factors, be it an interesting take on genres, progressive thinking within a style or just generating such an uptight atmosphere in a show. Somehow The Ex manage all of these points. Opening with ‘Four Billion Tulip Bulbs’ and its raucous bass/guitar rumble and then the jarring, unnerving guitar pattern that lathers on top. It’s completely organised chaos from the start and you cannot help but feel utterly mesmerised.

Strip back the reverb and a solid bass consistency and you are left with the bare, dry roots of the sound. This highlights The Ex’s set, drawing it closely to the anti-consumerist, satiric lyricism of Arnold De Boer and the post-punk environment they play within. The set spanned the years that the group have been together. ‘Addis Hum’ saw vocals change around putting the percussionist, Katherina Bornefeld, at the forefront with her tongue clicks and haunting stare. The intensity of the set is what really prevailed, it was built through minutes of clanging guitar work that ricocheted off of one another before building to the barrage of rhythm and Terrie Hessel squalls.

Upon this intensity, soundscapes are developed to leave surreal sawing actions with Hessels’ guitar work, his constant energy of bouncing around the left hand side of the stage gave a new look onto what it’s like to have a bit of charisma on-stage. Barely standing still throughout, it was hard not to be completely compelled by what he was doing. His actions and motion during the likes of ‘Shut Up’ fell in-line with the sound that was coming out of his guitar, as beaten and decrepit as the chugs that were emerging from it. Each whack of it took another chunk out of the Earth and hit you somewhere deep in the gut.

It’s clear to see in retrospect the importance that The Ex have had on contemporary music.

The likes of Stephen Malkmus and Black Francis are in debt to this group, in the lamenting, spat lyricism that is as coarse and vitriolic as the rough concrete upon a four-year-old’s knee. The friction between each instrument is most interesting as they largely stick two fingers up to your standard song structure and whatsmore, they completely wrestle with melody and tamper with it as if an innocent bug with a magnifying glass shone upon it. The way Andy Moor’s bass and guitar work fights with the rest of the music is hard listening but at the same time, there is something fascinating about it. Should it work? Maybe not, but like The Velvet Underground it suits the tension and uptight feel they command; sack the rulebook and make this vital exception.

De Boer’s quick fire lyricism left him breathless and exasperated, adding to the fact that every word that came from his mouth meant something and poured with emotion and tension. Just watch the video to the likes of ‘That’s Not A Virus’. Watch the sweat drip and watch his eyes soar frantically from left to right leaving him with the capacity of being a madman. It’s special to see a band that believe so sincerely in what they are doing.
Tom Churchill

Website: theex.nl
Facebook: facebook.com/The-Ex-33442126156