I remember being 14 years old when my friend and I decided to stay up and watch Rage one late, Friday night. I remember it being really good, boasting a playlist of bands such as The Pixies, Iggy Pop & The Stooges and The Buzzcocks. But then, out of nowhere came the disruption and noise I had been unconsciously waiting for. A song named Jordan Minnesota came on, with what appeared to be 3 psychopaths playing industrial noise punk. The chunky bass dove most of the little melody which was there. whilst the guitars just scratched and screeched at me, one of which was hanging on a guitar strap that simply hung around guitarists waist. But if you looked up from the strap, you would see blood, blood which was the direct result of the lead singer/guitarist scratching at himself with a metal pick. Fast forward to 1992, five years from this infamous Seattle gig and you have a new project consisting of Steve Albini (Big Black), Todd Drainer and Bob Weston playing signature asymmetric, noise-rock/post hardcore in what is now revered as one of the most important bands of the last century; Shellac.

I had the privilege of seeing Shellac twice on the same day; once at Tym Guitars when they played an intimate show and allowed public Q & A and then that same evening at The Triffid. First up was Crooked Fiddle Band, well known for their energetic live shows and unique mesh of folk-metal. The band wasted no time and got straight into it. Unfazed by the lack of dancing, they played with the constant enthusiasm and energy you would expect from a festival set.

The set itself, was riddled with impressive time changes and amazing violin solos which lasted for minutes on end (which to my own surprise never got boring). They also never lost their energy, and filled the silences between songs with information about what the next one was about, such as hillbillies abducting aliens or falling in love with a fish. By the third song the audience was captivated and whilst there was no dancing, smiles of approval were exchanged within groups, heads were nodding, bodies were swaying and there was even the occasional mouthed ‘wow’. There was a sombre slowing of pace in the middle of the set which lasted perhaps 10 minutes, but then the music picked up pace again and reached a crescendo that blew me away. Although the second last song was the only song which had vocals, the rest never seemed empty, and they even finished with a breakdown you would expect from a hardcore band. All in all they were fantastic.

After Crooked Fiddle band had finished I left for a smoke and a cider, only to return to a room which was almost packed and the front congested. The drums were set up in line with the two microphones, which seemed to state that all the members of the band were equals and there was no front man. You can feel the excitement in the room to see the band which only plays once in a blue moon and with this excitement came with a positive tension which consists throughout the set. As Steve, Todd and Bob came on, the crowed surged slightly forward, claps and cheers filled the hall and then it became quiet. Then comes noise, noise beautiful noise.

They seemed to perform a quick jam as the opener, which even involved theatrics such as pretending to go slow motion. Following this, the opening chords of My Black Ass growled from Steve’s guitar and the crowed began to move towards the front. When Todd and Bob joined in it seemed like the music wasn’t being played for us, but rather attacking us; it was great.

Towards the middle of the set, the music almost became meditative, the guitars would often cut back a little bit and people would sway and zone out (myself included). Then the guitar would thrash something out (a sound which I assume is similar to a grater against a brain) and everyone would snap back and realise where they were. During the middle of the set some fool decided to throw a drink at Todd directly before and during his solo. After the song finished Todd gave her all the money in his pocket (to reimburse her) so she could fuck off and it kind of seemed like justice. I dunno, I’m up for going mental at a show, spilling drinks and stage diving and what not but this gig didn’t have that vibe. This wasn’t a Fidlar or DZ Deathrays show. And that was okay.

Although they didn’t have quite the angst or fury which was probably present at their early shows, or what I saw that late Friday night, it was a great experience. Steve yelled almost incomprehensible words at you whilst wearing his signature waisted guitar strap, Bob was brilliantly cynical during the few Q&A’s he opened up (one guy asked ‘Are you currently writing new music?’ to which Bob replied ‘No, we’re playing a fucking show at The Triffid) and Todd gave an amazing performance throughout the set, not only for his drum solos but for his incredible ability of knowing exactly what to play in songs which seem to have no structure.

During the show I never had the sense of watching someone who just saw us as ‘another show on the tour’, it really seemed like they gave it their all, which made it seem very personal. In the end it was a pleasure to see them and I still can’t think of a single complaint.

- Kacper Majchrowski