It’s a small crowd that have turned up at the Hare and Hounds this evening to be bequeathed by an appearance from Melvins’ rock royalty Buzz Osbourne aka: King Buzzo. On entrance we’re greeted by the morose deep sounds of a cello being sawed to bloody death. It’s nearing spooky season and tonight’s support act is suitably donned in a Jason-style mask combined with a tracksuit; it’s a suitably antisocial look for antisocial music.
Ni Maîtres plays an uninterrupted set of this foreboding noise. At times, it wanders into harsher terrain where certain notes are translated through crackling pedals but generally steers back into the direction of a continuous discordant melody. It’s certainly music to soundtrack horror films to, and I’m marginally reminded of the Coil soundtrack to Clive Barker’s Hellraiser that never made its way onto the film because it was deemed “too scary” by film producers. ….
It sets the mood and in this respect, really demonstrates the power of music, how the public, psychic space can be emotionally directed. It is however, largely due to this – there’s a somewhat tense atmosphere that circulates an undercurrent of unease throughout the audience. It’s an odd juxtaposition for people who you can tell are wanting to get psyched for King Buzzo but are forced into conflict with the heavy, off-kilter “vibes”.
There’s little sense of triumph as Osbourne and Dunn take to the stage, as mentioned, there are the trying few but the rest of us remain in a semi-state of bewildered anticipation. In a truly DIY, egalitarian fashion there is also no real side or backstage area where artists can walk from to the stage at the Hare and Hounds, so they are forced to make their way from the back of the venue space, through the crowd. The pair march through with determined looks. Surely a seasoned veteran of rock such as Buzzo wouldn’t get nervous you’d think but I’m not so sure, this is, after all, music that is so stripped back, there’s sparse room in which to hide even the most minor mistakes.
The front row is lined with diligent fans who are equally determined in their own way to “rock” despite this being an acoustic set. And that’s not a criticism, I don’t wish to dampen anyone’s spirit who should be so inclined to rock out at an acoustic gig, please do continue. All the same, there is this slight disconnect between the music that is really being played and the legacy of Buzz Osbourne that comes with its associated connotations of anarchic, stoner rock/metal.
Holding the audience’s gaze Osbourne pummels out an acoustic, instrumental opener that only builds anticipation as we wait for Dunn’s strings to kick in – after around five minutes they do and the rest of the set is accompanied with Dunn’s finger-picking concert bass. Although there must be some added reverb on the mic, it’s surprising how far and wide Osbourne’s vocals reach; They are presented with just the same unwavering, parodic power as in the Melvins and they’re uncompromising for the small space at the Hare and Hounds so we’re pretty much being blasted with the same range as a 2000 capacity concert hall. There is a sense of this being a sort of Melvins’ unplugged experience, and fans at the front are quick to show their appreciation – headbanging and finger pointing throughout.
Osbourne’s hands flutter across the guitar neck switching between intricate riffs and bluesy chords with the kind of speed and ease reserved for someone who has been doing this for well…decades. In this form, he really goes someway towards dismantling the idea that rock/metal music is just sloppy, disorganised chaos. This is an art and not the modern paint splattering kind, there is a technical finesse that is given space to shine here without it wandering into mediocre guitar solo wankery.
It’s just good song writing performed by musicians who have spent most of their lives making music and yes, it’s probably a little bit more grown up and sophisticated than Dunn and Osbourne’s other artistic outfits but at no point does it veer into insufferable pretentiousness.
At the end of the set Osbourne leaves the stage to Dunn who continues to fiddle around on his bass for a few more minutes, as he makes his way back through the crowd there is still the sense of royalty that permeates. And as we wander outside, not quite sure what to do with a Wednesday night that still feels full of promise but is met with the reality of closed bars/shops and work the next day – someone clutching a vinyl bought from the merch stand excitedly remarks how special tonight was and informs us that we’ll never see anything like that again. He could be right, perhaps the internet will tell in time.
