Surrounded by amplifier stacks towering high like ancient monoliths, dressed in druid cowls and robes, shrouded by a thick fog of dry ice, and laying down primal slabs of guitar and synth at geological pace, Sunn O))) are, to put it mildly, a vibe.
Kings on the throne of drone for 20 years, the Seattle instrumental ensemble command a realm at the nexus of metal and noise art, with their low, humming heaviosity apt to get head-bangers scratching their chins and chin-strokers banging their heads (very slowly). Bleeding their compositions dry of melody, beats, rhythm and any obvious structure, Sunn O))) chew on the leftovers most musicians carve off and discard: a throbbing gristle of sound. Across a near relentless 90-minutes they progress through chord changes at a rate some bands get through entire songs.
As Novæ melts into Troubled Air then Pyroclasts with the subtlety of shifting tides, the sensation is more physical than anything particularly cerebral or emotional. It’s not simply that Sunn O))) are loud – even the most pedestrian of bands can obnoxiously turn it up to 11 – it is that the carefully calibrated density and intensity of sound provokes vibrations in parts of your being you’ve never felt vibrate before. Thickly distorted notes coalesce like shifting tectonic plates, conjuring dissonant frequencies. Even the bar staff wear heavy-duty ear protectors.
Much as one may be entitled to ask if Sunn O))) should lighten up a touch and stick a massive donk on it now and again, it would be unfair to surmise that they take themselves too seriously. After all, you’d need a sense of humour to go to work dressed like a gothic monk. At one point, synth player Steve Moore brandishes a trombone ridiculously aloft like a sacrificial lamb, before blowing a fanfare so mournful it makes you wonder what any other sad trombone ever had to complain about.
As the last groaning swell of Candlegoat rises over drone henge, Stephen O’Malley grinds his feedbacking guitar against his amps, then all five players slowly lift their arms to the heavens through the haze – in salute to their audience, or perhaps to the gods of unholy noise themselves.
• At the Roundhouse, London, on 28 October.
