Supersonic 2024

Birmingham
30 August – 1 September 2024

Being comprehensive with festival reviews is always a nightmare, so apologies upfront for those I missed. I’d like to blame part of that on the venues being just a smidge further away from each other that I’d like, and one of them being an O2 (and therefore a faff). Not to downplay the festival — lots of good work gone into making it all lush and tickety-boo.

Probably a nightmare for wheelchair accessibility, but that’s often the case with urban venues. It’s a steps, steps world, to paraphrase James Brown. The other part of my missing things was the old embarrassment of riches problem, or that I need a smidge of resting and eating and those pedestrian functions of humanity. Terrible business really.

Gazelle Twin was the first thing I saw and was doing an excellent bit of looking like some besuited nightmare boss. Setting was a comfy chair and a nice lamp, visuals very much on point. Music drifting between chanson-industrial and throbbing terror, tempos on the lower end. I couldn’t tell you if it’s what she usually does, but it’s a real spectacle that I’d probably avoid sending children to, what with therapy being so expensive these days (that’s a recommendation, FYI).

Popped from there to see Tristwch Y Fenywod who were wending out a Welsh-language goth soup — claustrophobic and harrowed and witchy as a ducking stool. Next on my to-do list today is to write up their album for Freq, so I’ll say more there; but they’re a band you should be getting on board with — hints of lots of scruffy goth forbears, but never clichéd or asinine. I think they were fairly well received by the Supersonic massive, so hopefully they’ll be on Top Of The Pops this time next year. Definite Friday highlight band.

One of the important functions of a festival is piddling about and chatting to people from around and about, so it’s worth giving a shout out to the DJs and performances on the roof terrace of the XOYO venue — I didn’t catch who was playing every time ,but there was a constant array of music flitting in and out of my consciousness while nattering.

My Friday highlight was I Am Fya, who pulled out a blistering set of various bits and bobs — plenty of culture business, and the only sighting of bashment for the whole weekend. That is a shame and kind of compounded by the venue over the road having a bunch of bashment and reggatón blaring over the weekend. I Am Fya definitely worth catching if she’s playing or DJing near you — a real ADHD mix of anything dancey with minimal regard for genre barriers, maximum regard for dancing.

UKAEA, members of whom were pattering around a few times in various acts over the weekend, brought some more dancefloor intensity to the party. At parts industrial, at parts maybe the techno-er side of that, all the way shifting through genres seamlessly. A good sense of pushing the show on, bringing on different folk to sink into the ratchet melange.

Melt-Banana, another band I’ll write up in a few weeks, were doing their thing. I should hope most folk reading are well aware of what they do, so it was a no surprises set, plenty from the new album, and playing on a PA that was in the realm of ‘decently loud’, as well it should be. So far as adverts for their forthcoming tour goes it was a blinder, so my whistle is quite thoroughly whetted now.

Dame Area‘s set was what can best be described as a guided meditation through early ’80s industrial-and-adjacent music; at times in the realms of Throbbing Gristle, elsewhere somewhere in that Skinny Puppy / Nitzer Ebb / Depeche Mode confluence (which may well exist solely in my own head). Intensity done right.

I’m not sure what happened to the rest of Friday night but I don’t remember seeing anything else which may suggest I was off to bed, but I’m pretty sure I was up on the rooftop gassing, as is right and just.

Saturday had different vibes, perhaps — certainly there was more of a punk / hardcore presence than Friday. Senyawa was the first thing I saw – definitely my Saturday favourite, difficult and probably pointless to say if they were a festival highlight. I reviewed their album for Freq, favourably, but the live show is something else. Their singer Rully is an absolute belter of a performer, like some Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan if he was a slightly camp and a lot more terrifying.

Vocal technique up the wazoo, as the young people say. And a perfect foil in his ‘hit things with sticks rhythmically’ bandmate Wukir. I don’t know how to describe their music — elements of extended vocal techniques (throat singing, screeches, “how the fuck did he do that” stuff) over percussive intensity. It’s thoroughly danceable and utterly compelling — definitely one to watch if they’re in your area.

I’m not sure of the running order now, but at some point I caught bits of Flesh Creep — who seemed to be representing Brum with hardcore business, shouting and hardcoring as is right and just. And also The Shits, who did a sterling job of living up to their name — ratchet sneering punk singing over what you’d imagine a punk band called The Shits to sound like. I’m glad not to have too much of the punk / hardcore continuum at the festival, but so far as a wee soupçon of it they were banging.

Agriculture are a band I’ve heard good things about, but I had no idea what they were doing. And it turns out they’re a rock band who’ve decided to do all the genres. Bits of emo, sweep-picking metal solos, punishing black metal, drum solos, post-rock … clean vocals, rough vocals, vocals off-mic, dual gutterals. And a band that, contrary to metal orthodoxy, looked to be having a great time on stage. Really very special and I say that who probably wouldn’t bother with them on paper. I’m glad that I ignored my own dickheading to catch them, because they entirely slapped and I shall be purchasing le record.

Nowhereness DJs brought some absolute belters on the roof terrace — DJ highlight of the day for me. Often in the stupid tempos range, but never quite in the donk / happy hardcore axis. I’ve seen the DJs involved in various guises around Brighton and it’s dreamy to see their party bangers moving the Brum massive. Another UKAEA-related thing and, as such, more power innit.

The Body and Dis Fig did a lurid display of industrial horror — vocals pitching just outside where I could make them out and no less malevolent for it. Skin-crawling electronics in the slower and lower registers like a futurist rendering of dub monstrosities.

MC Yallah and Debmaster brought the fire from east Africa, Yallah rapping in a bunch of languages and making sure Saturday night was moving. Dancing is important and an MC who can keep the crowd popping is critical, and it was lovely to see hip-hop culture revitalised through African electronic mastery. I’d hire them for my wedding, because who doesn’t want everyone shaking their bits to charismatic rappers and banging rhythms? No-one, that’s who.

Closing the night for me was Homobloc x FVCK PIGS. It was lurid and preposterous and they played a raft of gay club classics (“You Spin Me Right Round”, “Rebel Girl”, plenty of points in between) and also parochial rock club mainstays like “Chop Suey”. Lots of queers on stage being beautiful and sweating away in various forms of outlandish daddies. Lovely to see big folk doing their thing. It was a DJ set and the sort you’d see in many places, but a spectacle of fat bodies queerly prancing around and entirely necessary and excellent. Much sweat from your reporter.

Sunday was a sluggish day, both in terms of getting out of the hotel and also in terms of the music. Largely on the lower end of tempos and well-curated for that. First thing I saw was Haress, doing some dual guitar business that sat in my head like a chipper Charalambides. Not happy, but Charalambides are pretty miserable. They also did a folky rendition of Wu Tang‘s “Method Man” which was fucking excellent — with a great ‘sorry-not-sorry’ caveat for the Wu massive.

Mary Lattimore did a set that was harp-based and harpy — a dash of effects and looping, but never into the territory of soporific. A pal emerged bleary from the last song and while I was stoically (for which read, pushing through sleeplessness) less affected, it certainly hit some sweet spots of melodic lushness and carefully spare, harmonically inventive business.

Brighde Chaimbeul was probably my Sunday highlight. I’m an absolute sucker for bagpipes and her range of traditional tunes from the west of Scotland absolutely hit me right in my music bones. Lovely to see British minority languages represented again with (what I think was) Scots Gaelic singing.

She was playing the smallpipes, which I’ve not seen before — and considering it was one set with minimal production (perhaps a bit of reverb and a smidge of looping, and occasional drum tracks from a bodhrán like drum), she wrested a heap of modes and tonalities from her pipes. I’ll absolutely be seeing her again live and you should too. Gorgeous and charming and consummate and chilling and all the good words for music with none of the fussiness that sometimes blights orthodox traditional music.

John Francis Flynn kept the Celtic flag flying — a Dublin lad with a decent amount of patter on stage. Tunes in the realm of traditional Irish, but more varied instrumentation — a distinctly rock drummer (rather than a bodhrán or a tap dancer), double bass [I think – my memory is crap and I didn’t take pics], clarinet.

I’m crap so I haven’t researched, but I think it was a mix of original and trad songs — a lush, beguiling, slower version of Christy Moore‘s “I Wish I Was In England”, well received by the Supersonic massive, which probably says a lot about the political sympathies of the attendees. A few vocal problems and I felt his singing was a bit low in the mix made it a smidge frustrating, but I’ll be catching your man Flynn again because he’s got a lovely way with the auld songs, so he does.

I missed most of Robert Aiki Aubrey Lowe‘s set due to a combination of gassing and injesting pad Thai (which was excellent), but what I saw was a dreamy thing of visuals and drones. Apologies, Mr Lowe. ØXN were in the o2 and again sound problems meant that there was some fierce interruptions to their set in the form of roaring noise. Only temporary, but enough to be palpably surprising to their fans. Much like Flynn earlier, there was a sense of developing Irish trad music — all melancholy droning dirges and discreet electronic business.

One Keg One Eye is another Lankum side project, but very much of a different order — probably more like something you might hear on the Chocolate Monk label. Eerie droning sounds and sample with distorted vocal samples and audio errata. An effective thing and more than enough Irishness to point it at the auld country, but not as highly signified as ØXN and the like.

Probably one of the themes of Sunday was that of progress within Celtic traditions (though I’d by no means assumes a Dublin singer has much musically in common with a Skye piper, for instance). Folk music can be paralysingly purist and, on the other side, picking at folk traditions affectedly without really knowing the culture can be frustrating or tacky, so the fact that the music here didn’t need inverted commas is heartening — musicians happy to push traditions to new places while knowing their musical oats brilliantly.

Bonnie “Prince” Billy may have been the largest act of the weekend — certainly the most packed. Sound was mercifully great. I don’t know his work well, but he was charmingly consummate and played “I See A Darkness”, which may well be his hit. It was like revisiting an old friend for me — I haven’t listened to him in a good while (probably since John Peel died), so it’s a voice from my past. I suspect I’d’ve been more into it if I knew his material better — there were people around me mouthing the words religiously — but he’s got a lovely way with a plaintive tune and a witty melancholy melody (which I’m sure his fans are very much aware of).

Closer for the festival (unless there was something at the afterparty I was too knackered for) was Mohammad Syfkhan‘s bouzouki and rhythm samples with vocals. He’s a Kurdish-Syrian player living in Ireland and he was fucking excellent. Dressed in a lovely grey suit with tie, he looked like he was having a terrific time on stage, all smiles and sincere thank yous.

I don’t know much about Syrian musical traditions, but it was definitely in the realm of up-tempo party bangers and those of us who were still standing had a good bash at dancing away the last of the festival. Lots of heterphonic maqqam playing, but nothing so clever that it didn’t hit a body right in their dancing bone.

A grand festival and one I should’ve been at before. Shout out Supersonic.

-Words: Kev Nickells-
-Pictures: Jonathan Crabb –