Sing alone, sing aloud, to be alive…

There are some performances you just have to experience, some rhythms so raw, some bass so deep, you have to tremble with it to understand. That 1 Guy (Mike Silverman) is a truly astonishing musician whose art makes every adjective one dimensional.

His instrument is called the Magic Pipe and it is a unique musical construction born, he says, of necessity; He just couldn’t get his instruments loud enough, couldn’t push his sound far enough for what he was trying to create. Spurred on by a bet with a bar manager that he wouldn’t perform alone, he invented the seven foot pipe with a single bass string, attached via an elbow joint to another slightly shorter pipe with a second bass string tuned to a higher pitch. At intervals along every surface, are midi triggers programmed to specific samples and sequences. The whole thing is surrounded by a minefield of effects pedals, and kick pedals for drum loops. Watching him play was like watching a monkey on a jungle gym and listening to him was like listening to an organic orchestra.

He began his set by bowing the string on the smaller pipe, which sounded for all the world like a cello, while making the string on the long pipe sound like a double bass. The crowd were mesmerised already, but then he began to tap and belt various sections of both pipes, creating increasingly complex rhythms from a seemingly endless array of instruments, mostly of the percussive persuasion.

He was three songs in before the crowd realised he was creating some truly, infectiously, danceable beats, as well as being incredible to watch. Using a mic he created vocal loops to go with the beats, using a saw he created some undulating waves, and just when the crowd thought they had seen it all, he whipped out a cowboy boot, plugged a lead into the heel and proceeded to scratch and bash the sole to create a whole new sound again.

That 1 Guy played tunes from his second album, The Moon is Disgusting (Because it’s made of cheese), and lost himself, and the crowd, in tracks from his first release, Songs in the Key of Beotch. Despite the title of his album, Silverman doesn’t really have an issue with the moon, he just liked the sound of the sentence. In fact, he spent time between songs howling at Saturday night’s full moon, and by the end of his set, he had most of the crowd howling along with him -and not just because they knew Karnivool was up next.

As guitarist Andrew Goddard pointed out, there are not many bands who can go four years between the first and second album and continue to fill progressively larger venues at each show. Karnivool however, is not like other bands.

There is a symbiotic relationship between Karnivool and their home crowd, which leaves both parties simultaneously sated and drained, enriched and exhausted and reminded of what it means to feel fully, passionately, fearlessly, alive.

United in anticipation, (with the exception of just one man moaning ‘Kaaarrr-ni-vool’ repeatedly for a full 15 minutes,) the crowd stood, chests to backs, shoulder to shoulder and waited expectantly and respectfully during the final sound check. Without fanfare, (or was it drowned out by the roar of the audience?) the band were suddenly on stage playing.

The lights were up, and every fist in the moshpit was in the air, every lung gasping for enough air to sing the next line, every toe sacrificially shutting off pain receptors as they alternately jumped on, or were jumped upon in an effort to merge with the music.

Pregnant with a new album, due later this year, Karnivool warmed up the throng with their recent single, Gotye cover The Only Way before introducing a couple of songs from the forthcoming album. The first was New Day which most of the audience already knew the words to, thanks to YouTube; The second was the epic, earthy, rich Dead Man which wound around the crowd like a shroud.

After some more favourites from Themata, (and by now they’re all favourites) the crowd had revived; their noise more deafening than the band. Though they were due to finish at 11.30, Karnivool humbly obliged the insistent audience with an encore including Fade for the ‘old school fans’ and finishing up of course, with Roquefort which Ian Kenny hardly needed to sing at all, such was the enthusiasm of their devotees.

Then you beg for more.