It's all about peaks and troughs: a typical ten-minute piece builds up to a peak, goes into a tangential exposition, then returns to the starting point...
Inside every corporate type is a ‘native’ dying to get out. At least that’s what London’s Interfearence prove to a nightclub packed to the rafters with people high on adrenalin and glorious youth. Paul Martin and [a]Tyrell[/a] (no surname, no packdrill) have embarked on an anthropological exploration of the furthest reaches of dance. With a musical evocation of the rainforests of Borneo, the two suited dudes get down and dirty and try to contact the elusive, primitive tribesmen inside themselves.
And this digital tribalism works. With just the most rudimentary of tools and weird, bubbly visuals, Interfearence simultaneously get the fear and liberate their hidden selves. The components of this intricate, and illusory, sound might be nothing more than pounding percussion, electronic wooshes, frazzled keyboards and submerged, sometimes subliminal, ritual chants; yet the end effect is trancey.
A cynic would say Interfearence offer nothing more than variations on an elaborate update of A Certain Ratio‘s ‘Winter Hill’ , but there’s something relentless about the way the digital drums eschew conventional 4/4 dance patterns.
It’s all about peaks and troughs: a typical ten-minute piece builds up to a peak, goes into a tangential exposition, then returns to the starting point. And the dancers love it, as, just for the duration, their fevered selves too can imagine regression to a primordial, non-communicative, brutish state.