The two post-rock titans launch their co-headline jaunt beneath a West Yorkshire downpour that paints them as dynamic opposites within the heavy instrumental scene.
Seasons change, and autumn has undoubtedly swept over West Yorkshire these past few days. Cold mornings above Woodhouse Moor have given way to major downpours, shop frontages blasted horizontally with lashings of October rain. Yet amid the sweat-stuffed confines of the Brudenell Community Room, two post-rock titans prove determined to match its pathetic fallacy with a wall-of-sound roar that drips down the walls as sonic condensation.
Belfast’s And So I Watch You From Afar and Boston’s Caspian are no strangers to sharing a stage, having long been tour buddies on both sides of the Atlantic Ocean. But this European jaunt, launched on the eve of the latter’s self-titled new record, certainly helps to cast them as dynamic opposites within the heavy instrumental scene; one built around the nuances of jagged abrasiveness, and another crafted with the purveyance of cinematic gales writ large.
For Caspian, on first, it is the latter mode they ascribe to; widescreen compositions that twist in the wind and build towards towering crescendoes. Their billowing work percolates with the sense of catch-and-release slow-build tension, yet seldom drag despite the rinse-and-repeat approach; Darkfield’s seductive drone finds the group crouched like druids atop their effects pedals, before Flowers of Light practically takes flight with explosive serenity.
Freshly minted cut Remain hints at the pop-facing gauziness of the Smashing Pumpkins beneath the terrific detonation; Castles High, Marble Bright meanwhile remains a gloriously affirmative fade-out.
ASIWYFA conversely come out guns blazing, reliant on brute force and wiry terror to convey their emotional hammer-blow.
Their musical textures are pricklier by contrast when stacked against their comrades, but still speak with a euphoric explosiveness and rage through their barbed assault.
Songs such as Search:Party:Animal and North Coast Megafauna land with a persuasive urgency that belies their musicality; elsewhere, A Slow Unfolding of Wings climbs across its chord shifts with ferocious intent.
By the time they encore with a top-tier rendition of The Voiceless, clouds have parted for the stars outside. Moonlit bliss, well-earned indeed.