Asva

At first the vibrations feel as if an errant mobile phone is going off, only all over your body. Then it becomes an immeasurable rumble that reverberates enough to inspire, for those easily pleased, a trucker’s halfie.

Eventually, it’s merely incredibly sllllllllllllllllooooooooooooooow chord changes akin to being buried in a pile of spinning washing machines full of weapons-grade concrete, or driving over a cattle grid at two miles an hour. For two miles. Do the math.

Asva don’t exactly do songs. In fact, as per the unofficial formbook of all true doom, Asva don’t do an awful lot, period. Among sporadic clouds of dry ice, they tower above onlookers on the Thekla’s submerged stage, founding very real fears the whole damn boat venue could go down at any minute.

Having employed the services past and present of various sometime members of Burning Witch, Earth, and Sunn 0))), there’s no shortage of experience in their black-hearted ranks. One gentleman stands out especially, however – Mr Bungle and (for a micro-second) Faith No More guitarist Trey Spruance could, visually at least, be Frank Zappa reincarnated.

The rest are equally odd: A bassist who looks like he pumps iron and quite possibly beats up homosexuals; a second guitarist with back turned, and much in the vein of Mr Bungle’s geek-rock lineage; a drummer with an inhuman white shock of hair and added super-long platted beard action, who, on average, hits approximately one percussive item per minute.

After an hour of being pummelled by such seldom-moving sadists, it’s become impossible to decipher whether what just happened was enjoyable or barely endurable. But it’s certainly loud, and we’re still vibrating...