Review: Modulus III, Real World Studios

To travel out to a creative haven, tucked down leafy lanes in Wiltshire, is a grand way to set the vibe for something special. On a sun-drenched June evening, Real World Studios with its quintessential English country garden grounds, is no ordinary gig setting. The atmosphere is part theatre anticipation, part garden party tranquillity, and part niche musical interest magnetism you’d find at any gig bar.

Inside, the impressive horseshoe of recording equipment, instruments, and surround sound system is reminiscent of that famous Portishead gig at New York’s Roseland Ballroom, complete with adoring onlookers.

Modulus III can be forgiven commencing the first improvisation somewhat gingerly, as this is not just an experimental gig, it’s also the recording of their second album. Relief consumed the space once the flood gates of their combined expression opened, converting an underwhelmingly drifty warm up, into those broken snappy snaps that they wield with mighty confidence.

This time, (not quite a week since their almost occult tones at The Fleece) there’s a celestial attitude, arpeggios and malleted toms bashing around the heavens together like they own the place. Dan Moore’s flawless Rhodes scales, Drew Morgan’s hypnotising Cello and Matt Brown’s heroic drumming cleared the air and thumped the tension into pieces.

The last fragment of tension was addressed by Morgan, who stated the “awkward silence” at which point the audience broke readily into applause. Ground rules set, normal gig procedure encouraged, they continued through two more pieces before the interval. Another dry and polite start until cello stabs started kicking up dust and antagonising the keys. Drums “look on” goading the melodic slanging match before taking over, and leading the way in a jazzy, harmonious makeup. United in ascending once again, soaring above the dusk outside, then concluding naturally with an almost, but not quite, clumsy landing.

They claim not to have any plan at all, a natural passing of “solo” or leader baton shows their class as musicians. It’s full improv but clearly rehearsed in each other’s styles and gifts, always with the restraint of those who understand the difference between freedom and indulgence. Never, ever getting lost. Dread bass, creeping synth malevolence, solemn but driving percussion pulses. It’s moreish to listen to, and to describe.

We the audience are ever present, the layout of the room and utter invitation of it all. They want us to witness and contribute with our attention and pressure. It’s hard to find fault with them. They’re simply great at what they do. It is theirs. Perhaps the improvised entirety of each performance makes for a bit of vaguely classical soup, a formulaic entree before the more frowning and adventurous sparks start to fly. The first album has three tracks, tonight they recorded seven. Some are stronger than others, and I hope it’s a case of picking the more captivating half for the record.

Maybe aware of some repetition, they return from the interval with an uglier monster. Curdled, sacred sustains with sharp pitch shifts. Perfectly matched to those crafty drum fills that briefly defy gravity or any grid structure before returning to the collective orbit. Often poking the kit rather than hitting it.

Never short of sound palette shifting, ceremonial organ grandeur filled the room, the cello takes on effected tones like a drowning bagpipe, sounds nicer than you’d think. Maybe an elf bagpipe in a waterfall, accompanied by a surprisingly straight, expert funk break from Brown who continued to demonstrate how to never neglect any part of your kit or percussion. Morgan enchants with beautifully prepared piano through special FX; the serenity complete with Moore’s minimalist synth, very welcome after lots of angles and ruckus.

And just in that knife edge before the applause, Brown leaps in with his super cool, signature storytelling drums, deft rolls, sizzling Cymbals, and fuelled kicks. A return to celestial arpeggios and blue sky bowed cello to send us home inspired to dig out whatever instruments we have.

I overheard someone say it got better for them when they looked outside or closed their eyes, and I have to agree. Although dazzling to watch, this band are conjurors of jazz and synth hardened, beat-driven, classically trained vistas, capable of painting pictures and scenery for the mind’s eye, wherever your state of mind may wander.