Pet
Murky, haunting and desolate. Pet build atmospheric songs. On some they weave little more than glitches, pop, swishes, clicks and twitches. Meanwhile, the vocals are used mostly as an instrument, being fed through a reverb/echo box until they bear no relation to the human voice. It is at these times that Pet are at their most compelling. One song hits its stride into grim funk-zombie-disco.
Some songs are performed in a much more straight manner, driven forward by pounding tom-led drumming. On these songs the blips and swooshes are intermittent and sometimes feel like a distraction, rather than a complement. Pet sound best when they pick one extreme or the other.
If they lack anything it is in putting on a performance, as opposed to just playing songs. Indie-cool nonchalance is probably what’s intended, but a little more intensity would assist those of us who cannot distinguish it from boredom. Of course, this may be intended to match the occasional melancholia of the lyrics – “And I’m fed up again,” they sing.
Pumajaw
There is no shortage of performance here. Numbering only two, and with the most sparse smattering of instruments – keyboard, guitar via laptop, occasional squeezebox – there is space for Pumajaw to use all of their stage to command the audience. And they do.
They make ominous, stalking electropop. Along with the instrumentation, the sound itself is bare, with brutal techno throbs backing lone vocals. But what vocals. Words are not just sung, they are chewed over, played with and accentuated before being delivered with full effect. “Cold. Black.” she sings. It is mesmeric, and the audience sways in hypnotised bliss.
The style veers wildly but never erratically – from jazz standard singing over ethereal electro to social commentary over Floyd-esque drones and minor chords. It is brave and powerful, and never anything less then enthralling – you daren’t look away for a second.
Conquering Animal Sound
“My body is an island, come alive.” Layers of vocals are wrapped upon each other. Like all bands tonight, the human voice is used as an instrument to be warped, amplified, multiplied, or sometimes just barely whispered. And again, when playing with so many effects, particularly vocal ones, it would be easy to become fixated on them. But the delivery is done with commitment, and is never less than compelling.
Like Pumajaw, Conquering Animal Sound are a two-piece who multitrack guitar, laptop, mini accordion and even what appear to be random found objects to create instrumentation that is always inventive, and perfectly complementing to the song.
The subtlety of these arrangements is a triumph – there is no gap between song and transformation into performed piece. As a result, they can sound epic, forceful, enveloping and playful, all at the same time. “Becoming part of the periphery”, sings Anneke, as peripheral sounds float in, swirl around, and depart, as though they were pools in a river to be swum through. Glorious.
(Words by Rob Sproul-Cran)
