Daniel O’Sullivan / Thighpaulsandra / Peter Broderick (live at Sutton House)

London
6 April 2019

The faded Tudor grandeur of the venue, set in the urban sprawl of Hackney, was a fitting place for tonight’s entertainment, and its small performance area just added to the night’s intimacy.

The second night of celebration for Daniel O’Sullivan‘s Folly LP release (part of The New Arts and Music Programme at Sutton House), an amusing poem on the pros and cons of location (penned on the plane over to London) introduced his first guest, Peter Broderick, but the John Cage piano piece he played afterwards truly siphoned the attention. The odd police siren or birdsong mingling with the ivory incisions as his asymmetrical weave projected a pin-drop appreciation, his head swaying to the rolling rythmics, the sustained bounce of the keys and those occasional bassy accents.

Paring his more usual sonic excess down to a small table of devices, Thighpaulsandra (Folly’s producer) winged straight into a short three-track set of a bijou, and frankly stunning, rendition from his latest LP, Practical Electronics. He might not have had his Ming the Merciless outfit or be backed by a swirl of psychedelic projections, but he was right on the money, bathing us in a ghostly patina of electronica, vocals and pulsing basslines. An otherworldly trip down the rabbit hole, macheting through brambled metallics and shredded into a pulsing sustain, tiny motifs churning around in there like hungry rodents vying for your attention as Thighpaulsandra constantly adjusted the channels, tweaked the interconnects, unearthed new treasures that twisted with what had gone before.

That superb booming vocal of his pulling all the Radiophonic debris sharply into focus, to unravel back into a fiesta of pure abstraction. The slapped basslines, the squid-like crochets somehow affixed to a gurgling centre as the pebbly purcussives jackled an addictive syncopation, and he was off on another wild narration. The audio hieroglyphics of the first number were replaced by “Hanza”’s ridged noir, the damaged limelight of which was stolen completely by “Goat Owl”’s swagger, the second verse demonstrating Thighpaulsandra’s sweet vocal dexterity and set a seductive conclusion to his performance.

After a short recess, he was back supplying slinky synth work for the main feast along with Peter, who supplied violin and spoken word, both bolstering Daniel’s backing band, the Dream Lyon Ensemble consisting of Frank Byng on percussion, Chloe Herington on bassoon and clarinet, Knut Sellevold, Christos Fanaras on bass and Astrud Steehouder on vocal harmonies, autoharp and melodica. It might have been decidedly chilly outside, but this bunch of talented musicians bathed us in a summery haze. A quintessential Englishness topped by a soft 1960s lilt of vocal from Daniel that brought to my mind the folkiness of late Eyeless In Gaza, but essentially defied comparison.

Folly’s a gorgeous record (far removed from my usual fayre) and the music tonight did it more than justice, as your ears and eyes followed the curves of the musical jigsaw, the interlocking shapes and rhythmic pull petroleum(ing) the lyrical lifeblood. A lattice-like draw reflecting the cosiness of the venue and “Air Tunes”’ bewitching lilt was probably the night’s star for me. A slow, luxurious vibe caught in the a scattering of piano circulars, Daniel’s vox harmonically shadowed by Astrud Steehouder as Peter Broderick’s volin added a melancholic murmur to the fray. A bucolic blur that brought to mind Red House Painters‘ emotional embrace and the warm comfort of a hot beverage on a winter’s day.

“Silhouette”’s peppered purr was there too, papering your cranium in its rosy optimism. Daniel’s words skipping the wonder on “Utopiary”’s spinning coins, its guitar sparks giving out a faint Cocteau Twins glisten as the tightly knit unison frayed, and the piano jumped extra notation around Daniel’s wah-fed embellishments. A night of quiet reflection for sure, sunsetting on the orchestrated curls of “Amnion” that were seduced in an eerie ambiance from Thighpaulsandra and left to possess the PA like a flurry of imagined insects.

-Michael Rodham-Heaps-