During a recent conversation about likes and dislikes in live noise, a good friend made an observation that resonated with me. It was something along the lines of, “I always prefer a set that you can tell is cathartic for the performer over one that is more concerned with being cathartic for the audience.” I couldn’t agree more; for me noise is such a personal thing that draws all its power from genuine passion rather than theatrics. And when I think back to all the great artists I’ve seen play in just the past few years, the one who emerges as the shining example of this is Dries Beernaert, a.k.a. Vincent Dallas. His set at the now-defunct basement venue The Nurse’s Station while on tour with Geseling and JHK is a fond memory: direct-action metal ’n pedal abuse slung with such heat that it made the cold stone walls sweat. And of all the enthusiasts crammed into the small space, he was somehow still having even more fun than any of us. Dwalen Door het Bos in Mijn Hoofd is the latest ecstatic explosion in Beernaert’s ongoing campaign of “global noise terrorism”—a tagline also attested to by his ocean-hopping roster of labels—and happens to be a new high point. I tend to not be a fan of full stereo separation, especially when it comes to solo projects, but there’s a lot more going on here than just two random sessions thrown into each channel. When both “chapters” begin you’re immediately aware of the split, especially “Barvoetsten alleen” when it takes nearly a minute for the volume level on the left to catch up with the right, a risk that pays off as the rest of the track morphs from side to side. Loops and feedback echo each other across the center, building toward an all-out assault that hits way harder when it finally coalesces. It’s messing with more structural complexity than previous instant classics like Artiest Zonder Circus, a tape another friend described as “caveman shit” (and how dare he, because “though shalt not lahahahahahaugh with serious art”), without sacrificing any of the raw unbridled joy of distortion worship. Those screeches toward the end of “Desondanks de duisternis…” will have you seeing god, or whatever you call it.
Noise Not Music 