Master Musicians of Bukkake: live @ Supersonic 2009

The most bewildering Supersonic experience I had was whilst watching Master Musicians of Bukkake at the Space 2 stage on Saturday evening. Someone recommended I go see them, and that if I did I should get there early to catch the start of the set. They took to the stage wearing the outfits you can see in the photos below, each member donning a wide brimmed and high domed felt cap with a black insect net tied beneath the chin and a shimmering bright red cloak. The two drummers were set up parallel to each other on a long raised platform, while the remaining four musicians spread to the fill the edges of the stage; leaving a large, dimly lit hole between them.

They began with a wall of wailing guitar noise, while others held strings of bells which they shook ceremoniously at slow intervals. The most prominent musician was the guitarist to the right of the stage whose eyes had that wild Beefheart glimmer, and a mischievous smile which carried a certain edge, particularly when pixelated and distorted by the black netting. I can’t remember which came first, the singer or the riff, both of which were highly memorable, three days later I can still hear that song and I’m eager to get home and find out if they have a record.

The arrival of the anonymous, costumed vocalist crawling slowly and deliberately to the centre stage coincided with the hymnal riff, which mixed exuberant and slightly ragged classic rock with an unhinged element in the chords. A sound that I can only describe as both bewitching and slightly nerve-wracking. It ended each time with an extravagant and hypnotic breakdown into tight syncopated blasts of a down-tuned chord and very loud drums and bass punching a hole in my belly. This cycle went through enough repetitions for me to lose track of time completely.

The singer had risen to his feet and was expressing the riff with exaggerated movements of his arms that seemed un-choreographed but ritualistic all the same. His vocals were a blend of deep guttural snarls and an eerie high-pitched quiver which emphasised the strange tonality of the music.

After twenty minutes I felt incredibly hungry and disappeared briefly to eat something. When I came back in I felt severely disappointed that I had left the arena, in retrospect it felt as if the music was building some state in me which had evaporated completely by the time I returned. It felt like I had lost the chance for something powerful to come to fruition, whether it would have been good or bad I am not able to say. They only played for a few more minutes, what I heard was good. There were unexpected surges of analog synth, more odd time signature riffs and slow deliberate drumming.

After the show I bumped into someone I know, who had not gotten a whole lot out of the experience. He’s not averse to theatricality on stage but was clearly unimpressed by what he called the “lawn monster”. The thing that drew me to their music (and which has left an abiding impression) is that their sound was not easily defined as creepy, or doom or horror metal or unhinged in the Deliverance/Waco cliché mode. It was truly strange, awakening certain parts of the brain that are close to fear and despair while retaining an uplifting, rejoicing element that came close to some earthy form of devotional music.

Perhaps the Sun City Girls would be the closest comparison in terms of the energy they gave out, crossed with some Captain Beefheart and some homebrew Pagan rituals. Their cult-like behaviour and garb straddled the boundary between comedy and austerity, much like the music. It resulted in some music which I imagine has a lot of depth and power over the imagination. I hope to see them play again.

Live Pics courtesy of Stu Green / shot2bits.net):