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The Secret Machines
Ruby Lounge, Manchester
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- The Guardian, Monday 16 February 2009
- Article history
In an ideal world, the Secret Machines would be playing in a volcanic crater at Pompeii, or taking the stage in the Rocky Mountains as the sun goes down. As it is, their epic, skyscraping sound is crammed into a venue so overcrowded that to get a glimpse of the band would require the assistance of machiner
That doesn’t deter the musicians: their guitars shimmer and roar like collapsing electric pylons, while the drums rumble like freight trains over sleepers. But enough about the subtle moments.
The New York-based trio are something like a collision between krautrock, David Bowie and Pink Floyd – the latter especially, since both bands have lost a key member. Where Floyd substituted David Gilmour for Syd Barrett, the Machines have replaced Benjamin Curtis, their departed guitarist, with Phil Karnats, who has brought a muscular, avant-garde sound reminiscent of Robert Fripp’s “Frippertronics”, and even more effects pedals.
Although it feels at times like being plugged into a gigantic wall of noise – Last Believer Drop Dead seems to feature an actual helicopter – the Secret Machines’ music works on multiple levels. It’s pulverising yet fragile, emotional yet cerebral; they are one of few rock bands to recreate the thrill of zombieing out to trance music.
During a rapt Alone, Jealous and Stoned, it’s possible to glimpse Josh Garza’s flailing drumstick above the crowd, which at least confirms that this huge racket is being made by mere mortals. The audience carry on in the kind of awestruck, blissful state that normally results from chemical experimentation. If the band keep on following the Pink Floyd model, world domination will be theirs by around the eighth album.
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