The Orchestra (For Now)
The Exchange, Bristol
Photography by Lydia Cashmore (@photos.by.lyds)
Amelie Peters
Writer/designer and sub-editor for Epigram. If you wish to summon me, say something relatively pretentious about post punk music three times, click your heels and I’ll appear.
At Bristol’s Exchange, The Orchestra (For Now) deliver a short but powerful performance, pulling from their new EP and beyond
Falling into the limelight with a nonchalant charm, The Orchestra (For Now) remind us of the swimming musical heights genre blending can take us. With only two EPs under their belt, the staggering prowess of what is only the beginning of their musical career screams that this band is one to watch.
Lilting love-lorn limerence-like lyrics soak the audience, wrapping them in tendrils of willowy chords. Crashing crescendos and desperate lows take the crowd from sorrowful heights and back again, hypnotically commanded by the wickedly honed skills of Lingling Bao-Smith’s bow arm.
As the lilting classical discord echoes around the cave-like Exchange, the feeling of dissociative musical pleasure hits me and I am sunk beneath the waves of layers of blending chords and raucous lyrics.
Abrupt staccato notes, immaculately timed strings, unsullied by the perfect accordance of keys, mesh and then unblend. The layering of the husky imperfection of Joseph Scarisbrick’s seemingly untrained voice compliments the classical like pearls of oil in water. ‘Wake Robin’ is a lullaby to the modern age, its poetic and erratic references to a public in discord mirror its musical makeup. The soft lilting melody chaotically disturbed by a crescendo of orchestral noise showcases the sheer technical skill.
Leading the spiralling key-heavy charge is a Cameron Winter-esque figure. Lit in blue, his uniform of black t-shirt and jeans give him an approachable charm, immediately juxtaposed by the raspy roars that rip forth, echoing the age-old sentiments of the mundanity of living and the grey-scale shade life takes when entertained with heartbreak. Joseph Scarisbrick is perfectly classical in his front-man prog-rock performatively-unperformative role.
The compositional techniques speak to the brief sparking development of progressive rock in the 1960s, pioneered by the likes of Pink Floyd and later rekindled by bands such as Black Country, New Road. The similarities in structure are unmistakable, the long soliloquy solos emulate the fragmented style of the latter. Whilst exquisite in its beauty, the band’s music can slip into the derivative and follow heavily in the footsteps of the titans within the genre, including black midi, Squid, Geese and Famous.
Elements of both heavier lyrical content and musical construction slide into their new material. It leans more heavily on the guitar as the band focus on the development of their own musical identity, which, given the synchronicity of the band, is sure to be staggering.
Whilst the gig was one of my favourites to date, the briefness of the set didn’t pass me by. Resting at only forty-five minutes, the time flew by, and whilst one could argue the cursory nature of the set is down to the amount of music they have released, I point to the skipping over of ‘Deplore You’, my favourite of the bands music, with its echoing beauty shining above the rest, the dark lyrics and reflective quality showing a poeticism rare in much music these days.
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