Live Review: Sunn O))), Thorax

The first thing you noticed on entering the space was Tonehenge: an 11-strong speaker stack collection blocked the view of the rear of the stage. The band playing in front, Thorax, were dwarfed by these monoliths. Only a fraction were being utilised by the support, while the rest waited patiently to be woken by their masters.

Thorax are a local outfit that skate between several genres, playing all very well. Doom dovetailed into psyche dovetailed into crust and back again, and as the transitions were weaved with skill their sound always felt hungry and alive where lesser groups might sound rote and unfocused. Vocalist Kallie has a good range, growling and spitting over crunching riffs, letting go when the band moved into groovier territory, letting them jam through ideas and tonal shifts on their own. Thorax worked well, even though they didn't gel stylistically with the headliner. That said, no one gels stylistically with Sunn O))).

Smoke filled the room. For ten minutes, hissing clouds of gas crept into all corners of the venue. The red lights piercing the haze looked like eyes searching for someone. Vague shapes materialised in the gloom. The hooded figures standing watching from the stage unbridled a low rumble, a chord dredged from the depths of some godless place. The density of sound felt incredible. It felt like being encased in shifting earth. Attila Csihar has been their live vocalist since 2003; his performance here was extraordinary. His voice moved between screeching into the void to throat singing to chanting in Latin, promising grim things to eldritch gods. At some point a trombone was used, its hollow brass keening a gloomy addition to the ceremony.

The performance was relentless. It was two hours of sonic terror that pummelled us into submission and rocked us back to health during moments of release. The feeling of bathing in low frequency vibrations played so loud for so long was unnerving, yet like all extended moments of focus and repetition it became hypnotic. It felt dangerous. It also felt transcendental, like barriers were being warped and pushed and conquered. If Cthulhu himself appeared in the Sydney Uni courtyard after the show, no one would have been surprised.

There is no one like Sunn O))). Their ideas obliterate normal concepts of music. Even in a small venue like Manning Bar, they transform spaces into vast cathedrals, raising shrines and altars using amplifiers and speakers. Let's hope whatever they pray to doesn't answer back...