Live Review: My Disco, Cornel Wilczek

Tonight's proceedings get off to a low-key start with Qua's Cornel Wilczek dropping a laptop jam of shuddering experimental electronica. Wilczek starts with static noise that evolves into an industrial beat, which sinks its teeth into mind-numbing repetition. It's only once an edgy groove is established that any thought is given to adding layers of synthetic noise and melody. It is with a sense of mystery that Wilczek pushes the multicoloured LED-illuminated buttons of what is probably an Ableton controller to build and break down a jam that evolves under the watchful eye of tech beats. The warmth and depth of the repetitive beats just feel good as your head locks into the grind. Unfolding in abstract tangents and stretching out over 30 minutes Wilczek's set comes to an end all too quickly.

The NSC bandroom is transformed when we return to it 30 minutes later. A crowd of inner-city hipsters have taken control of the place. My Disco have been up to their usual tricks and cranked the smoke machine into overdrive to create a murky haze. Exotic chants over the PA, in a language from distant shores, add a sense of ritual. The cooler-than-thou crowd give My Disco an almost silent greeting, excepting of course a few loud cheers from some super-excited fans. The curtain goes up on a bare stage that is lost in smoke-machine mist and lit only by radioactive orange lights. My Disco appear only as silhouettes. The three-piece stretch punk and metal influences into brutally minimal and abstract territory. An accent on repetition extends Wilczek's pummelling techno into a completely different idiom. The set creeps with a bleak sense of desolation and at times feels punishing and unforgiving. Perhaps the most astonishing aspect of the evening is the pristine clarity of a pretty perfect mix. At times the drums feel electronic but a gruelling drum solo affirms that it is completely live. Benjamin Andrews plays guitar like a wild man while his brother Liam nonchalantly delivers his vocals in jaded tones. Repetitious chords sound like experiments in minimalist attack and decay but it is when My Disco lose control and descend into jagged explosions of violent noise that they truly come to life. Playing as loudly as they can manage, their music is as much a visceral experience as an aural one. Awestruck fans willingly submit themselves and most seem completely lost in sound that envelops them. An hour later the crowd is leaving the NSC talking in the most reverential tones about what can only be described as a class local act.