This is the Junction, Bristol. Gig-goers gather, the beer is warm and we all watch a man repairing a bicycle on stage. I say repairing, really he's just turned it upside down and is not carefully placing three candles in front of the back wheel. An effects pedal is switched on. Donning balaclava and cap, the artist known as DJ Miscarriage presents just about the worst fashion statement ever as he lights the candles and spins the wheel. I assume the wheel is being recorded, generating the vast noise that assaults us while the 'DJ' hunches behind his laptop.
There is a hint of mashup grindcore or whatever the kids are calling it these days, samples from old films broken up by heavily distorted gabba bass drums and a hint of 300bpm jungle. The laptop breaks. It breaks a little too often and we only hear second-long snippets and colourful cursing before the set is abandoned as a bad lot. The rear wheel of the bike starts smoking. We watch it for a bit, no-one really wants to be the one to enter the laptiop hell onstage but eventually someone calls out. This is the Junction. Now slightly more toxic than before.
Now every band has to start somewhere, and Breaking Colts have a lot of noisy metal potential, but this evening's performance still gives the impression that they are still trying out ideas and only a few ideas at that. The songs are very complicated rhythmically and it's impressive that the trio never seem to lose their way, but there is little variation in the actual chord 'progressions' or 'melodies'(if such things indeed exist in this type of music) to keep the audience (by which I mean me) really gripped. The bassist's sound is loud, distorted and filthy which is great, but when the guitars join in it's all just one noise thinly held together by some exceptional drumming.
After the usual messing around on stage, the band get changed. I can't help thinking that this sort of thing should really be done backstage as one of the guitarists drapes his trousers over his amplifier. Still, be-robed and barefooted, You're Smiling now But Soon We'll Turn Into Demons have a very interesting range of great riffs that develop into sprawling masterpieces of the heavier side of psychedelic prog rock. Perhaps a little dated, but the robes add to the atmosphere and seeing a bunch of monks bouncing up and down with electric guitars is a pleasure to see. After all, this is the Junction where druidic prog seems normal.
A lot of music suffers from being just one or two ideas, one riff, even one note, repeated over and over again. With Mugstar, the motif is invariably hammered into submission and you start to realise you are hearing things that aren't actually being played, that you have been listening to some internal musick for the last ten minutes and you have this sense of euphoria, that is only slightly marred by the niggling feeling at the back of your mind that the person next to you is hearing something else.
You just have to hope everyone is on the same wavelength I guess, and allow yourself to get sucked back in. The awesome techno number they played last time I saw them doesn't surface tonight, but I try to contain my disappointment as the next masterpiece knocks me for six.
This is the Junction and tonight we have had it all, burning bikes, noisey metal, prog monks and powerful wigouts. I keep mentioning the Junction by name because I don't want you to forget it. They're having a bit of financial bother and if you want to see gigs of this calibre more often, click on the banner below, or visit the Junction's myspace and buy some compilation CD's! They are ace and cheap!
