“Making sense of hide and seek”: Abstract Concrete live and on record

As a rule, I tend to steer clear of new bands and artists.  The way I see it, there’s more than enough old music out there in the world, waiting for me to discover it, for me to start listening to anything new in my advanced years.  Recent archival releases such as the Deutsche Grammophon Avantgarde and Obscure box sets have confirmed my long-held suspicion that my time is better spent investigating the music of the past than in trying to get to grips with anything being made in what passes for the present.

When I first heard of a new band called Abstract Concrete, then, my interest was not immediately piqued.  I should have known better, since lurking behind the idiosyncratic alias was none other than drummer and singer Charles Hayward, formerly of post-punk innovators This Heat and avant-prog outfit Camberwell Now.  Of course, I was never a fan of either band at the time, but a dive into both groups’ slim recorded output paid repeated dividends in terms of their unconventional rhythms and caustic, hard-edged songwriting.  I was particularly impressed by Camberwell Now’s sole album The Ghost Trade, while a 2017 concert at Cave 12 in Geneva by the reconstituted This Is Not This Heat was a bracing experience.  It was a no-brainer, then, to head back to Cave 12 a few weeks ago for the only Swiss stop-off on Abstract Concrete’s first European tour, while the group’s self-titled début album was required pre-concert listening.

There’s an ultra-limited (51 copies!) edition of this album available in which the record itself is encased in concrete, which needs to be broken in order to get to it.  Fortunately, a CD of the album is included in the package, so collectors can hear the album without resorting to a sledgehammer.  But the format reinforces (no pun intended) the idea that there’s something mysterious and esoteric about this music, which is by no means inaccessible but requires several plays to reveal its secrets.

It’s an impression confirmed by the barnstorming opener, “Almost Touch”.  Just as buyers of the concrete edition can almost, but not quite, touch the record inside, so there’s a sense in the song of some goal that is being grasped for but which remains stubbornly out of reach.  Hayward sounds brave and determined as he sings “there’s still more work for us to do – first of all, tear down these walls with our bare hands”; yet it’s a determination fuelled by an idealism forged in the crucible of London-based activism of which Hayward has been a part for almost fifty years.

Abstract Concrete wear their concerns lightly, never allowing them to obscure the communicative impulses that lie at the heart of their music.  The group’s sound is a unique and unclassifiable blend of avant rock, prog ambition and raw punkish energy, lent an intoxicating European folk element by Agathe Max’s lively viola melodies.  “This Echo” dances on the back of Hayward’s warm, sympathetic stickwork and Otto Willberg’s propulsive bass runs, giving Roberto Sassi space to cut loose with free-flowing electric guitar.

“The Day The Earth Stood Still” is perhaps the standout track here.  A multipart prog epic in time-honoured fashion, the shivery atmospherics of the ‘Happy Village’ section draw in the listener as surely as do Yoni Silver’s celestial organ work and the regretful lines of Hayward’s text: “making sense of hide and seek, let’s say goodbye to rock and roll”.  But at around the ten-minute mark, something remarkable happens: the song lurches into gear, Hayward’s voice turns into a livid, punky snarl, and the organ and drums take on a ferocious energy reminiscent of Godbluff-era Van der Graaf Generator.  It’s a staggering piece of work, but the record still has more up its sleeve, as the summery groove of “Tomorrow’s World” rounds things off in spectacular fashion.  Max’s viola skips jauntily through the song, Sassi throws Fripp-style soloing into the mix and Hayward returns to the question he posed in the first song – “are we there yet?”  Having already declared that “there’s still more work for us to do,” the answer to the question seems clear.

At Cave 12 the other week, Abstract Concrete played the whole of the album plus at least one new song, “Subject, Verb, Object”, as a well-deserved encore.  Live, the group are a thrilling proposition, with the viola and guitar cutting deeply into the ace rhythm section of Hayward and Willberg (seen recently in London playing as a trio with saxophonist Evan Parker).  With new material evidently in the pipeline, the prospect of a second album is an exciting one.  For now, though, Abstract Concrete are worthy of your full attention.