Chicks on Speed / The Wraiths @ The Caves
paint and strobe were splashed everywhere, and nudity erupted on a wide scale<br/><br/>""they are the channelled spirits of two fourteenth century monks""
| 12 Dec 2006
Chicks on Speed's (SS) art-pop credentials were to the fore tonight, headlining the aftershow party for the Douglas Gordon exhibition opening at the RSA. Gordon himself had worked on a short film with the girls, running around naked in the Botanic Gardens only the day before. It was screened during COS's set, while Gordon pranced around the stage as the fun-loving celebrity, paint and strobe were splashed everywhere, and nudity erupted on a wide scale. When songs coalesced – Girl Monster, or We Don't Play Guitars – this had the makings of a brilliantly weird gig, but too often there was insufficient attention paid to what might be called 'the mechanics of entertainment', and noise and energy were dissipated with a juvenile lack of effect.
Then there were the Wraiths (SSSSS). Dear Christ. The conceit of this Edinburgh-based noise outfit is that they are the channelled spirits of two fourteenth century monks, whose God-fearing terror and suffering have only found a voice seven centuries later through dark electronic music. I didn't know this on the night (Halloween, it should be noted) and I'm not sure I really care, even though as a concept it does fit the tone of set. Their music is some of the heaviest I've heard, an improvised whorl of thunderous bass-heavy cracks, distorted screaming and ritualistic plague-drumming. The sound is absolutely vital: bleak, yes; noisy, incredibly; but possessed of a fundamentally true sense of pain that it cannot help but articulate a glimmer of hope. Ferocious and ambient at once, the Wraiths are not to be missed. [RJ Thomson]
Then there were the Wraiths (SSSSS). Dear Christ. The conceit of this Edinburgh-based noise outfit is that they are the channelled spirits of two fourteenth century monks, whose God-fearing terror and suffering have only found a voice seven centuries later through dark electronic music. I didn't know this on the night (Halloween, it should be noted) and I'm not sure I really care, even though as a concept it does fit the tone of set. Their music is some of the heaviest I've heard, an improvised whorl of thunderous bass-heavy cracks, distorted screaming and ritualistic plague-drumming. The sound is absolutely vital: bleak, yes; noisy, incredibly; but possessed of a fundamentally true sense of pain that it cannot help but articulate a glimmer of hope. Ferocious and ambient at once, the Wraiths are not to be missed. [RJ Thomson]