Dharmacide - Curveball

DHARMACIDE - CURVEBALL

WORDS: JACK COLLUM

Spanish shoegazers Dharmacide brought their dreamy and atmospheric soundscape to Curveball on a muggy October evening unsure of the season. The Madrid based six piece let loose a sludgy and sinister set list - a hypnotic tidal wave of distorted sonic ambivalence that burrowed under the skin.

The instrumentation consisted of an acoustic guitar drowned in distortion that chugged like steam train wheels, two electric guitars that created blissful, drugged out, cascading ripples that every so often howled like a shriek flying free from a witch doctor’s jar of screams, a bassist sleek as silk (sporting a Rory’s Fishing Tackle t-shirt), spooky synths occasionally replaced by a tambourine, drumming that made not dancing impossible and ghostly reverb drenched vocals. Unsettling. Unnerving. Ecstasy. A sound that suddenly descended into unexpected territory and back again, pulling you every which way. Depressed. Dove. Breezing. Symphony of Silence - some of the highlights that left wanting more. Vivienne Eastwood, DIIV and Ringo Deathstarr come to mind.

In between the songs so much Spanish was spoken amongst the crowd it was easy to believe the gig was taking place somewhere on the Iberian peninsula until one paid 7.50 for a Guinness. It should be noted that despite the lack of space, attendees still managed to form a hearty mosh pit before the night came to a close. Leaving the venue my feet were sore and irritated. Sitting on the footpath, I removed my shoes to find my socks missing, and by the time of reading, hurtling like an astroid through the depths of the universe lightyears away.