Experimental Brilliance: Ex-Easter Island Head and Guests Redefine Sound at the Tung

Ex-Easter Island Head @ The Tung Auditorium 29.11.2024

I first became aware of Ex-Easter Island Head when they were supporting Terry and Gyan Riley back in 2019. I arrived well into Ex Easter Island Head’s set – a mistake I swore I’d never repeat, as the two numbers I did catch were mesmeric, beautiful, magical.

It’s taken me a while to catch them properly. It’s been worth the wait.

This evening, before performing every track from their wonderful new album Norther in full, Jonathan Hering, Ben Fair, Andrew PM Hunt and Benjamin D. Duvall approach their instruments – centring on but not limited to guitars – with a sort of quiet reverence that only lasts a moment, but still draws you in.

And when they play, boy do they play.

There’s an alchemy on display from the outset, with their guitars transformed by turns into electronically-hammered dulcimers, harps-cum-tubular bells, and (with the help of voices and mobile phones) proto-samplers-and-synths. At one point I could’ve sworn I was listening to a gamelan. None of it is simply for effect, though, and there’s nothing austere or impenetrable about the music the ensemble summon up.

The band’s mastery both of their instrumentation and their music’s forms is breathtaking. Despite hearing many of these tracks for the first time, it is still crystal clear that everything is perfectly judged, perfectly played, perfectly placed. There’s something Zen about it, like a Japanese rock garden which is, even at first glance, very obviously unimprovable, even to a layman.

Elsewhere, there’s a palpable sense of the sea, perhaps conjured up by swoops of sound you could imagine whales enjoying.

This isn’t so much music in widescreen, or even the aural equivalent of iMax; this is music that’s so completely immersive it’s almost hypnotic, and as refreshing as going on holiday.

I’ve heard their music likened to minimalism, but it much more lush, much deeper and wider than that label would suggest. Likewise, the ‘ambient’ tag does them an injustice, as their compositions don’t just create an atmosphere, they summon up whole aural landscapes. 

Preceding the main act, Lola de la Mata makes an enigmatic entrance, then fills the room with sounds almost impossible to describe. At one point, it was a bit like the Polish band Nucleon and Ross from Friends (the Ross from TV show friends, not the band Ross From Friends) were both rehearsing for different gigs in the same room, whilst at the same time someone was trying to play Pong on a faulty TV which was simultaneously playing the shower scene from Psycho on a loop. 

And if that doesn’t quote sound like your kind of thing – no, not mine either.

That would have been my abiding impression, then, if not for the fact that I serendipitously decided to listen with my eyes closed. Gradually, I was listening less to these noises as if they were music, and more like they were an investigation into sound itself. This came with a feeling of the auditorium changing in both shape and scale, and at one point there was a distinct impression of being near an indoor expanse of water, like a large swimming pool or underground reservoir.

The source of this aural landscape became clearer when its inspiration was explained: de la Mata’s own hearing issues, and the fact that the human cochlea can generate it’s own sounds. Whilst it may not (for me) have been the highlight of the evening, it was still interesting to say the least. Even so, I wasn’t one hundred per cent sure whether or not de la Mata was joking when she apologised for the technical difficulties.

Charles Hayward entered next, wheeling a small amp in front of himself in a buggy, and rolling tins filled with metal objects across the auditorium floor, summoning up sound effects to accompany his impressive voice as he sang Slow Train. At first this felt like more familiar ground, given it was recognisably music; but he didn’t rest there, soon displaying a more experimental side. This included amplifying the sounds of various mostly glass objects being rubbed against one another, which became so intense that at one point I had to put my fingers in my ears. 

Even this shortly came to make sense, though, enhancing the sense of melody of the next track – a song about a steeplejack accompanied with tones played on (I think) Tibetan singing bowls. 

Both support acts joined the main act on stage later, their mutual appreciation clear to see, and hear.

As with every review I write about gigs at the Tung Auditorium, I have to mention the venue itself. In the same way £5 tickets to see a play at the Globe Theatre are an absolute bargain, as it’s worth that just to see the building from the inside, so it’s worth getting to the Tung just to hear the acoustics, regardless of who’s playing.

Is there a better marriage-made-in-heaven than an Ex-Easter Island Head gig at the Tung Auditorium? If so, I haven’t heard it. On the whole, a beautifully-wrapped, precious early Christmas present, with music that isn’t merely enjoyable, but somehow really matters.