Hexx ProfileA veritable army of noise technicians and mavericks had assembled for Drowning Horse's annual demolition of a hapless Perth venue. Leading the way was lone singer and guitarist Oosterbanger, who hammered her way through vitriolic attacks on office culture amidst other missives that were buried under a weight of fuzz.
Despite being all instrumental, the youthful Yomi Ship look like they could be a player in the cosmic post-rock stakes. With tightly wound rhythm and sneaky key changes, they certainly were more atmospheric than any band has the right to be at only 5pm in the afternoon.
Counterintuitively, the inclusion of alt-comedian Geoffrey Power King made perfect sense, sandwiched in between banks of noisiness — although he was the only supporting act ballsy enough to heckle the main band before they'd even begun.
Abacaxuva were something different altogether. Something of a death disco homage, with drums, expressive bass guitar and transgressive, almost Robert Plant-like vocals, they pounded out some commanding grooves with resourcefulness and a good dollop of panache.
Fierce as hell, Hexx are the musical equivalent of kicking a man on the floor; right in the guts with steel toe caps. Tenderising us with brutalistic hardcore, there was possibly some Napalm Death influence apparent in the way their lanky singer lurched and staggered about the stage not unlike Barney Greenway. Their ferocity and execution should make them one to keep an eye on.
Alzabo are a band who appear to improve with each performance. The simplicity of their setup, just one guitarist vs one drummer, only goes to magnify the rapport and instinctive intuition they've developed and their innate animal rhythms.
As those in the know will tell you, Drowning Horse make music so loud, you can hear it through your skin. Two albums deep into their career they've lost none of their intensity, but continue to develop their skills. In particular Kim McConchie's death roars have become all the more masterful, at times sounding like a burning bear. The central riff to The Barrow Stones inspired all kinds of illogical mayhem up front while James Willis' kick drum pounded in chests like an elephant heart. Remarkably, the Rosemount still appeared to be intact by the end of it, although a latent catastrophic structural damage could hardly be entirely ruled out.
