Throbbing Gristle

Has ever an odder collection of people got together to make music than Genesis P-Orridge, Cosey Fanni Tutti, Peter ‘Sleazy’ Christopherson and Chris Carter? Performance artist, porn star, photographer and sound engineer respectively, having invented industrial music in the late Seventies they have reinvigorated the flagging genre in the most astounding and unexpected ways since reforming five years ago. And they’ve only got odder.

Taking to the stage for an over-14s, afternoon show in a sweaty gay club, Tutti looks like a trendy aunt, Sleazy wears what appears to be a cow skin robe, Carter is dressed in a lab coat and P-Orridge… well, what can we say about the man who underwent extensive surgery to become a replica of his late wife? Sagging breast implants, tattooed arms, dyed blonde bob and dressed in hippy pastels: the house lights remain on full beam all night, lest we should flinch from his perfect imperfection.

“We love you Genesis,” someone yells from the crowd; “You don’t know how many people have said that to me,” he sneers back, “All of them liars.” And so begins 40 or so minutes of harsh, repetitive noise. A set that avoids any of the band’s uncanny soundscapes kicks of with old favourite ‘Persuasion’. The thin beats and weakling threats of the original have been subsumed by gigantic pounding structures, redolent of some rank industrial complex.

Next up is ‘Live Ray’ – seemingly a generic name for any unhinged attack on the infinite beat that the band has conducted since its return. Carter strikes up a punishing loop which in turn is twisted and contorted by Christopherson, Tutti tears glassy shards of sound from her headless guitar and P-Orridge slashes away at a heavily distorted plastic violin.

From their first performances since their re-emergence, it has been clear that TG were ready to utilise all the technological advancements that have cropped up in the intervening years. The way Carter and Christopherson, in particular, manipulate sound would have been simply impossible during their first incarnation. It makes the likes of ‘Hamburger Lady’ - which receives a treatment similar to that of ‘Persuasion’ - all the more powerful. The attitude lapses into a touch of self-parody, however, when P-Orridge starts using an instrument application on his iPhone.

‘Almost A Kiss’ is the only song of the night taken from Part Two: The Endless Not, the 2007 album that demonstrated the relevance of this reanimation. A clattering piece resting on a beat not dissimilar to Massive Attack’s ‘Karmacoma’, it aches with the desperation of loss. Tutti’s bright red pocket trumpet adds eerie squelches to new song ‘Springbankistan’ which, like the following ‘What A Day’, sees P-Orridge’s vocal performance as angry as ever.

Finally, ‘Wall Of Sound’, always a tremulous beast, becomes an uncontrollable behemoth, turgid muscles rippling beneath its skin. All Christopherson can do is tear out its thudding heart and draw it to an abrupt stop before leaving the stage gesturing his desire for some food and a pint before the band return for their evening show. It’s a frustratingly short set, though only because we could have happily taken so much more.