Slaves @Shipping Forecast, Liverpool
★★★★★
13.02.2015
Alejandro De Luna
A tiny basement in the heart of Liverpool. It´s boiling and dark. There´s no division between the stage and the audience. It smells nauseous. It´s vehemently loud, chaotic and obscene. There´s no better place to be in Liverpool on a Friday the 13th.
Slaves. Another sonic peculiarity coming out of the current British bellicose machine of noise. And I am not talking about your Kasabians or Coldplays. I am talking about sounds that matter: Phobophobes, Dressmaker, Slim Customers, Fat White Family, The Amazing Snakeheads, you fuckin’ name it. The new addition to my nostalgic soundtrack that pursues the ashes of 1977 is a duo called Slaves – maybe you already know them. You should. And if not, you´ve been wasting your time. Just like me.
You could easily define Slaves´ machinery of noise as punk. Even during some moments of their chaotic presentation they graze within the boundaries of the genre´s most vulgar reincarnation or what we know as anarcho-punk. But to me, this is just pop music discovering its most visceral and confrontational side in 2-3 minute odes of nihilism inspired by daily boredom and post teenage anger.
The speech and the sound is genuine. While beautifully destroying its vocal chords, Isaac Holman drums like Maureen Tucker on MDMA at the same time that Laurie Vincent – a tattooed free spirit – shoots frantic and violent riffs. Slaves recreate with artfulness the rock ‘n’ roll circus bringing it back to its street-like essence. No silly harmonies, mellow choruses or pretentious nonsense. Just the energy and the audience.
This is the music that make us feel alive. That make us feel human. Vulnerable. Energetic. Real. Pissed. When noise becomes art. Art that you and me could validate immediately. Iggy would be proud.
