The arty impression on the sleeve gives only a slight hint of what to expect. This 25 minute album by a trio from Switzerland is as curious as the band’s name. “Blackwave” is a term I’ve seen used to describe their output. Musically it’s certainly disturbing, and has a cinematic feel as if it’s all lifted from or designed for a challengingly avant-garde film soundtrack.
The only thing that’s normal about the opener “Hand on Stomach” is the repressive beat. The sound is distorted and the vocalist sounds in pain, which I guess goes with the title of the track. It’s a mere foretaste of the grey sound experimentation which characterises this tortuous and, to be fair, unique experience. There’s a sort of Robert Smith element about the vocalist but he sounds in such pain that it’s like gaining a direct entry ticket into a world of struggle and suffering. The repetitive and robotic instrumentals of “Jahzz” don’t do much to add colour to the scene. In fact there’s no colour.
And so it goes on. “Lac Orbu” is a further bizarre and macabre collection of barely cohesive sounds. The vocalist, who sounds like he’s in another room, makes the occasional agonised contribution, as a repetitive industrial process quickens up and descends into a distortion of chaos. Deadened mechanical distortion equates to the riff once more on “Bankal 10/15”. On their site, the band refer to Noise and lo-fi hymns. That’s about right. Curiously, while they’re sawing away at our brains on “Bankal 10/15”, there’s a section which reminded me of Chris Spedding’s “Motor Biking” (1976 for those interested). How bizarre is that? Frankly it’s not worth trying to extract meaning or melody from this tortured cacophony. “Fascination” provides another prime example of the genre. It creeps along mechanically before, inevitably, the musical wheels start to fall off. That presupposes of course that they were on in the first place. “Samba Suicide” then engulfs us in another round of experimental noise. There’s a certain energy about it, and the sound production injects a psychedelic element. I almost liked it.
If this lot are serious, they’re either insane or extremely creative. Either that or they’re having a laugh at our expense. I suppose “Vafancuneo” is the ultimate musical project. Welington Irish Black Warrior – I haven’t spelt Welington wrong here, by the way – are challenging us and challenging themselves. This album is dark, distorted and weird. Whilst I don’t look for unremitting jollity or continuity in my music, I couldn’t see the point of it. “Vafancuneo” is not going to be a cherished addition to my collection, I’m afraid.
(5/10 Andrew Doherty)
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