Tuscoma
24th November 2018
Whammy! Backroom, Auckland, New Zealand.
Review by Cameron Miller. Photography by Sarah Kidd.
One of my favourite genres of music hardly qualifies as a genre. These artists don’t have much of a unifying sound to identify them – most have almost as many differences as similarities. What does unify them is embarking from traditional confines of extreme metal and punk sub-genres, pulling from whatever influences they require in a quest to create something uniquely violent and abrasive. Wellington duo Tuscoma’s album release gig was a night for celebrating these outlaws. The difficulty of pinning down the styles of the four acts was evidenced by the laundry list of genres at the foot of the bill: “Grind/Crust/Black/Powerviolence/Hardcore/Alt.”
Openers Pulvinar were the act that played the closest to a recognisable tradition, with a no-nonsense assault of grind and crust punk, but were no less enjoyable for it. Previously of South Africa, this was their first live show in New Zealand, and based on their performance our underground scene should welcome them with open arms. The duo had a humble, almost shy stage presence, softly introducing themselves and thanking the audience for showing up early. All reticence disappeared once the instruments started up, however, with Liz Seston’s furious, open-throated growl overlaying buzzing guitars and rattling drums. Pulvinar have a good ear for when to shift from overwhelming assault to a neck-snapping groove, and this simple formula, combined with their infectious energy and outraged vocal performance, propelled the set. Loosening up at an increasingly warm audience reception, drummer Brian Seston wryly introduced a shift to a slightly slower pace as “a chance to join in the with disco boogie next door.” The ensuing numbers showed the band has a grasp of weight and menace as well as aggression. I’ll be keeping an eye out for these newcomers’ next appearance.
Aucklanders Long Distance Runner were up next. Their set stood out as the most densely packed with musical ideas, impressive amidst such an eclectic bunch. With their slippery post-hardcore sound, they managed to pack shoegaze’s scope of composition into trad punk run times. Passages were established, deconstructed and rebuilt in the time it takes the average post-rock outfit to dwell on the opening notes. In the same time frame, we could go from ferocious stop-start battery to fully-rounded riff to mournful melody and back to battery. It sounds chaotic and disorientating to describe, but the whole experience was astonishingly easy to follow, as evidenced by the flailing limbs, tossed hair and nodding heads of the crowd. Helping string it all together and provide the emotional core were Simon O.’s keening screams. Sam S.’s precise drums meanwhile, were a solid foundation to follow the swift, near-imperceptible transitions. Long Distance Runner were an impressive showcase of economical song writing and pinpoint tight performance.
Next to last, my favourite local purveyors of bad vibes, Bridge Burner, took the stage. From the opening barrage of brutal opener ‘Keehauler’, they brought their familiar unrelenting, self-contained intensity. These are the ones to see if you want to feel like giving up on hope for humanity while also punching holes in the walls. Crafting from a grab-bag of black and death metal, grindcore, and crust punk, they filled the Backroom to the brim with their heavy, tar drenched sound. A little too full in fact; Backroom is exactly what it sounds like, and Bridge Burner’s deep low end at points overwhelmed the small space to the point it became muddy. A shame, but a limitation in the performance space, not the band or probably even the sound engineer. The set was otherwise eviscerating. Frontman Ben Read’s raw physicality was a highlight, as he invaded the front row to pace restlessly, by turns strangling the mic with both hands, kneeling to howl into the earth, delivering guttural growls, rasping shrieks, and disturbing, despairing cleans. During ‘Null Apostle’, title track to their debut album, he even drops his mic entirely, his screams creepily almost-buried as the band strips back the wall of noise to ominous scuzz and bass. The line-up boasts a new drummer, Louis (last name unknown at time of writing, sorry Louis), replacing Cam Sinclair. Sinclair’s style was all tight, precise extreme metal, and while Louis could rattle off a blast beat with the best of them, his looser style slipped in more of the song writing’s hardcore and d-beat influences. Bridge Burner are back from a short hiatus at the moment. Snatch the next chance you have to see them.
Finally, headliners Tuscoma took their turn. Formerly known as avant-punk outfit Hollywoodfun Downstairs, duo Kurt Williams and Joe Wright have a new name and a sound that ups the darkness and black metal influence, while retaining the punk influence. From the very start their set is loud and disorientating, almost distressingly so, as the guitar scrapes and screeches, and the drums clatter and blast. Visually, Williams arrested attention, looming over the mic, all hanging hair and wide-open mouth. Tuscoma is not a band overly concerned with niceties like comfortable volume, lulls in tension, or breaks in intensity. In fact, their whole sound seems crafted to unsettle, to strip nerves raw, to crawl under the skin.
Tuscoma excel at creating the illusion of chaos, while underneath lies smart, purposeful composition and slick performance. Williams favours riffs that see-saw rapidly between twinned motifs, punctuated by his jagged, horror-movie shrieks. He and Wright shared minute, almost inaudible signals to switch tempo, suddenly drop off, or explode into crescendo. Wright himself squeezed in what felt like every possible hit and fill he could, until the arrangements were almost groaning under the weight of percussion. (He also deserves credit for dealing with a shonky kick drum trying to tip over throughout most of the gig.) It all feels like it could collapse at any moment, if Tuscoma didn’t know exactly what they were doing. There were also moments when various influences separated out and presented themselves, such as a chilly black metal riff or a startling old-school punk sneer from Williams. All this evidenced the deliberate construction that goes into the cohesive, if bizarre, sound.
All in all, an exhilarating, unique end to a night of unorthodox extremity.
Were you there at Whammy! Backroom for this magnificent metal gig? Or have you seen Tuscoma live somewhere else before? Tell us about it in the comments below!
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