Trumans Water @ Islington Mill, Salford 12.12.10

It's angular sounds on a knife edge ready to separate, disperse and arrive at a far away destination. The drums patter then crack providing little continuity. The guitars shred in truncated bursts. The opening tracks are so brief it's difficult to establish whether anything has started.

Dec 12th, 2010 at Islington Mill, Salford / By Samuel Breen
Trumans Water Rubbing the strings against a pillar, the sound takes on a more sustained texture. The drums strike up with some degree of repetition and concrete structure. As the sound thickens, the tone of the tracks become increasingly familiar. Their guitars are slung low, it's slackers born out of 90's American indie. It's Trumans Water.

"Fuck!"

"Sorry we're so late."

"Is there a Subway near here"

"Stay focussed guys"

"This is our tour plant"

"I think we’re in Manchester"

"Give me two"

"Band meeting..."

"Oh no we just did that"

"Yeah let's do it"

Ferocious riffing, yelling, thudding, snapping, whacking. It's clear that today's choice topic is cohesion, fluidity and entropy.

This ongoing battle is both the band's life force and their downfall. Trying to draw an even line with various approaches restricts the reach of the sound. Trapped by their predetermined regulations of skewed instruments and yelping vocals it makes for a distinct lack of danger.

"We need to fight that frequency, blast it with some alternate frequency."

There's no doubt that there's a battle taking place. But a collision with the failing equipment is a tertiary issue because it's that battle that helps the entropy.

There are moments of inspired cacophony; of whirring distortion and ear bending rhythms. Tonight the best moments come when a palette of consistency arrives at total destruction. Each track into the next is all part of an elaborate build up before providing great release as it is razed to the ground.