This previous September, O. have been the primary act to carry out on the Tenth-anniversary showcase of South London indie label Speedy Wunderground. Whereas the label—which has launched music from black midi, Squid, and Lewsberg—has grown far past its mission to be a quick-turnaround singles manufacturing unit, O. are maybe essentially the most demonstrative showroom mannequin for that expedient, plug ‘n’ play philosophy. Shaped two years in the past, the duo was already opening giant theater concert events once they may nonetheless rely their gigs on one hand. With their debut EP, O. make an much more convincing case for why you must have them kick off your present: For an often-abrasive instrumental band, they know methods to begin a celebration.
Because the time period “post-punk” has more and more change into shorthand for aggrieved shout-speak and stern-faced severity, O. reassert one of many style’s unique, oft-overlooked sides: Anti-pop experimentation may be plenty of enjoyable. The 4 songs on Slice hit you with a delightfully disorienting array of sounds. At numerous factors, you would possibly suppose you’re listening to a hockey-rink buzzer, or a swarm of bugs, or a doom-metal drone, or a squawking sea animal, or a police siren, or a brown-note synth frequency, or an incoming ocean liner, or a tectonic-plate shift. And that sonic spectrum is all of the extra spectacular when you think about all these results emanate from a single supply: Joseph Henwood’s baritone saxophone, which, when filtered via Speedy figurehead Dan Carey’s manufacturing wizardry, is rendered equally boisterous and monstrous. Henwood’s sax assault is O.’s simple point of interest, the novelty that may make an unsuspecting black midi fan heading towards the venue bar cease and surprise, “What the fuck is that!?!” earlier than turning round and making a beeline for the stage. However drummer Tash Keary’s frenetic stickwork is the mortar that holds O.’s wall of sound collectively, guaranteeing a harmonious steadiness of improvisation and rock-solid composition.
On Slice, O. are already within the enviable place of possessing each a signature aesthetic and the boldness to stretch it out with out worrying about dropping their sense of id. The place jazz instrumentation in a punk context usually favors atonal skronk and splatter, O.’s model of sax ‘n’ violence largely forsakes free-form anarchy for a extra disciplined assault that rallies round muscular riffs and fleet-footed rhythms. Slice’s opening title observe burrows a tunnel from The Mudd Membership dancefloor to a Studying Pageant mosh pit, with the music’s aggro-funk breakdowns and build-ups betraying the affect of Primus on the UK’s present post-punk pack. Against this, on “Moon,” the duo wades into dubby waters with out dropping their sense of mischief—even because the beat slows and Henwood’s snark-charmer melodies begin to ooze like molasses, Keary continues to experience her hi-hat and kick-pedal as if main a disco band. Not surprisingly, essentially the most mid-tempo tune, “Grouchy,” is the least attention-grabbing one of many bunch, its mutant-metal grind suggesting a pub-rock King Crimson. However the duo save their greatest for final with “ATM,” which affords them the additional area to deploy their full arsenal of results for maximal drama. Over six white-knuckled minutes, the duo seesaws between ticking time-bomb stress and earthquaking eruptions, as if waging a struggle between their avant-garde inclinations and their irrepressible urge to simply rock the fuck out. And from that chaotic collision, O. forge a sound as unmistakable as their title is unGoogleable.
