Stephen O’Malley and Greg Anderson stand facing each other, their faces largely hidden by their familiar attire of black hooded robes. Behind them are a series of tombstone-like amplifiers, arranged in a horseshoe shape around the duo. As O’Malley and Anderson simultaneously strike their guitars, the entire building starts to wobble. Fog billows from the band’s feet, transforming the stage into something akin to a Robert Eggers set design.
It is both an intriguing and familiar setting. Fans of SUNN O))) will recognise this description from previous live shows. This is a proven formula that works for the duo, regardless of which particular series of drones O’Malley and Anderson choose to unleash.
SUNN O))) has experienced something of a purple patch as of late. Their self-titled tenth album was released earlier this year. It was their first in seven years, as well as their first for Sub Pop, and the reviews were some of their most favourable yet. SUNN O))) as a project has existed for almost 30 years, but it feels like their status as legends of the drone and doom genres has never been more solidified.
Testament to this is the extensiveness of their UK tour, which spans six cities. The chosen venues are not small either; almost no other band would fill capacities of this scale with music so uncompromising.
But physically seeing SUNN O))) might be harder than you’d think. The amount of haze that fills the room – combined with the fiercely bright lighting behind their occult arrangement of amplifiers – renders the duo near invisible at times. On the limited occasions when an easing of smoke allows either member to be seen, the combination of their robed figures and the vibrating floor is almost sinister. That only two individuals can wield such power is remarkable, but it’s also menacing.
As is the case on record, the duo’s compositions blend into one another. With attuned ears, the unrelenting sounds of the duo’s most recent self-titled album are present, but this is intermingled with older material too. To this extent, the entire performance becomes one solidified drone of destruction that can be felt on a cellular level.
This prompts audience members to act in a couple of ways. Most stand ruthlessly still, arms folded and rooted in position as the rumbling chords propagate through their bones. Other’s raise arms to the sky in both jubilation and submission. For over ninety minutes, there are few other ways to respond to sounds waves that are this authoritative.
This is partly because certain portions of the performance are genuinely spooky. The merciless consistency of each chord is portentous. There’s a sense that this music is a warning signal, designed to strike fear into all who hear it – which is presumably the majority of Leeds.
SUNN O))) are a band over whom it’s easy to spill words of hyperbole. Adjectives like “heaviest” and “loudest” are often appended to descriptions of the band for good reason, but this should never belittle how well constructed the music often is. Piercing highs periodically invert the drones so as to provide a contrast to the ribcage-rattling lows, and the occasional introduction of pulsating rhythms means that the more attentive listeners will find variation amongst the brutality.
There’s also something demonstrably bonkers about the whole affair that only the most po-faced of individual would refute. The very nature of a SUNN O)))’s live performance is indebted to excess. The genius, however, lies in the ways SUNN O))) use the minimalistic forces of two guitars, thick haze and resourceful lighting to achieve this excess. For this, SUNN O))) are more than simply one of the heaviest bands to ever exist. They’re also, however obliquely, one of the most creative too.
BEN WILLIAMS