Squarepusher, BLK JKS

There's always something not quite right about Squarepusher shows. Whether it's the bizarre mix of people, or the sight of a bearded Essex man making an unholy racket in such a peculiar manner, there are very few artists to rival this man. The show being in the Royal Festival Hall’s Clore Ballroom and the introduction of a drummer (Alex Thomson) make it 'special' and mean a slightly changed direction. Usually it's a show of laptops, four and six-string basses and two fuck-off giant flashing black-white-red-blue screens either side of the stage whose images pulsate, jump, flicker and flash as though some kind of extension of energy from the thumb and fingers which run up, down and around the fretboard. We still get all this and, though it's certainly not needed, any addition of live musicians is always welcome.

With bass bins and general P.A bursting from the back of the ballroom as well as the front, the intensity of Jenkinson’s live performances is impossible to escape. Having trotted through some of the Nintendo-esque diversions from Just A Souvenir and Numbers Lucent, - the chugging ‘A Real Woman’ is a surprise addition to the bill - we get to the real stuff. The mind-melting stuff. The finger-snappingly complex stuff. The live incarnation of 'Delta-v' was 45 times better than on record. At least. It's a wonder, during the more intense moments of snare-hitting frenzy, that Thomson's specs managed to stay attached to his face. For anyone observing - if you can call it that - just standing there, gawping, is about all that is required.

For all of the triumph and string-thwacking of the previous hour, the final 20 minutes were a let down in more ways than one. A let down in that so much force had been expended, with guitars that threatened to catch fire and drums which were rattled into oblivion. After an hour of aural assault, ears are definitely due a well deserved rest. The last throes were minimally self-indulgent, but after the raving romp of ‘Illegal Dustbin’, running on empty was almost an inevitability.

Following one of the finest fusionists on offer, Joburg's BLK JKS are well versed in the art of melding several music styles into a lucid and coherent sound.

By the time everybody had their ears, guts, and bones well and truly drilled by Jenkinson's rhythmic virtuosity, the crowds disperse, almost never to return. A band running on hype - as BLK JKS have been – warrant a bigger audience for their BIG sound. By the time they erupt into their densely-layered dub-rock stylings, most of the night's patrons slip to the semi-comfortable furniture of the periphery, seemingly unbothered by what was unfolding mere metres away. Sharing another feature with Mr J, theirs are also songs which need to be felt, rather than heard. For each reverberating guitar chord, there's some high-pitched vocal harmonising it duels with. In the meandering parts, grooves are extended and left to bloom - it may seem a bit wishy-washy to describe any form of music as 'organic' but this is a band for which it's nearly justifiable.

The main problem which BLK JKS face is the topsy-turvy bill. In any realms of even the slightest amount of sense or logic, this is an unbelievably bad move. Not because they aren't worthy, but firstly because most of the throng had come to sample Squarepusher's bass-tastic delights, and secondly because when he's on top-form, as tonight, he is almost untoppable.

Having already been treated to some rim-rolling, pummeling, skin-bashing brilliance, we are yet again spoiled by percussive luminosity. Finding it hard not to be entranced by such an impressive use of the sticks, a move to the back three songs in is required to be able to fully take in the goopy flow of chorus of guitars and wails bounding from the P.A. This doesn't help matters at all, as the band were hampered by a stifling sound quality. Though it doesn't destroy what was laid down, the feeling was that the true beast of BLK JKS wasn't able impose itself on the South Bank Centre as hoped.

Although the interest appears minimal, what the South African quartet gave was far from it. Regardless of the now sparsely filled Clore Ballroom, BLK JKS still manage to showcase a rare sound which will surely have ears pricked up in anticipation of a debut album.