by Sofi Eln Contributor | Photos by Leo Horsfield

Tags: A Place To Bury Strangers 

Monday 08/12/08 A Place To Bury Strangers @ ICA, London

 

Monday 08/12/08 A Place To Bury Strangers @ ICA, London Photo: Leo Horsfield

Cranking up the decibels to ear-bleeding proportions, Brooklyn’s A Place To Bury Strangers test the strength of the ICA’s walls and ceilings tonight with their almighty musical explosions. The three motionless bodies on stage are juxtaposed to the bellowing tidal waves of sounds they engulf the audience in, until front-man, Oliver Ackermann appears to become possessed by the music, throwing himself about the stage and hunching over as he strikes his trusty-guitar ferociously, his hand all a blur like an RSI awareness advert.

The images on the screen at the back of the stage switch between scenes of the open road and flowers, but they do little to soften the blows of aggressive anthem To Fix The Gash In Your Head which is blowing chunks out of the crowd’s heads as Oliver’s guitar (one of many played tonight) roars aggressively to the back of the room while Jay Space drums beats as heavy as thunder. As the trio tear through a monstrous set, there’s little interaction between band and crowd, and it’s not needed as it’s clear everyone’s immersed in the music, even a stage invader goes unnoticed by Oliver!

The singer’s unobtrusive vocals often appear like another instrument among APTBS’ thick and heavy layers in their reminiscently shoegaze sound, yet these boys could rival the average death-metal, heavy-metal and thrash-metal bands, with their vigour. It continues in the same vein with Don’t Think Lover and I Know I’ll See You until the serene trails of The Falling Sun lulls the crowd into a (premature) state of calm before it is built up once more with bowel curdling tremors, in which Oliver crawls on his knees, with broken strings flaying as he whacks wires on to his guitar amid flashing strobe lights.

A quick change of guitars and Ocean’s grand gusto of a finale is nigh. Oliver’s vocals appear like echoes, as flickering beats and rich, slow, resonating guitars pull the crowd in and out of consciousness as they watch the tide and band go out with ringing in their ears. As the crowd disperse, the search to find their heads begins….


Sofi Eln

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