Live Review: Pete Swanson, Tujiko Noriko + Tyme

Tujiko Noriko is a frequent commuter to Brisbane these days, playing here several times in recent years – most recently in collaboration with Lawrence English and John Chantler. This time she's here for the opening event of Room40's Open Frame festival with her new musical partner Tyme, a member of jazz-electronic group MAS, and together they've created something quite different to their recent works. There's a sheen of pop-sensibility overlaying the pieces tonight, and an upbeat sense of positivity that stands in contrast to the more ethereal, avant-garde nature of previous releases.

Perched delicately behind her microphone Noriko is a bashful but entrancing figure, shooting out occasional excited smiles as she sings. Meanwhile Tyme hides behind an impressive array of electronics, improvising around a compositional core and occasionally effecting and looping the live vocals – even joining in for one song. The pieces tonight never quite reach the level of transcendent beauty that the last tour possessed, the compositions feel a touch constrained, but it's a beautiful set and one that represents a fascinating example of what pop can mean when its proponents are prepared to experiment.

Pete Swanson has moved towards techno in his recent work, and away from the noise that typified his old band Yellow Swans. Tonight's performance harks back to his earlier work, as harsh rumbling bass fills the room and sharp high-pitched tones burst above the static. There was always a rhythmic aspect to the Yellow Swans' work though and the move to techno has further enhanced that, with his set here more rhythmic noise than wall of sound. It's interesting, but this feels like the wrong environment; the 4/4 beat, compressed and distant though it is at times, calls for a dancefloor and the sharp high tones emulate the whistles of a rave. In an environment dedicated to close listening, rather than dancing, it lacks the variation – the subtle, gradual shifts –that typifies truly exceptional noise.

As the beats drop away though, the music begins to take on those intricate qualities and becomes perfectly suited: music as motion, rather than to inspire it. A swirling maelstrom of sound whips through the speakers, buffeting the room and throwing the listener off-balance – music as synaesthesia. Slowly the maelstrom fades to rain, still threatening, but much calmer, and as blasts of air and rumbling bass fill the room, the listener is brought back to the ground with sounds recalling railways and industry. This is the joy of noise: its ability to remind us of both the extremes and the mundane in our environment and, as Swanson's performance tonight exemplifies, to remind us that beauty can be found in the most unlikely sources.