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Bperipheral owl-shuddering basslines. The drum fills the bouncing walls like the sound of gunfire. Guitars that look like pneumatic drills in other air drills. The loudest gig stays with you, both figuratively and literally, as anyone who has spent days afterwards with an annoying ringing in their ears can attest.
Last week, with the help, ironically, of Alistair Cooke’s old episode showing that Janis Joplin’s Big Brother and Holding Company was loud enough to damage the permanent ears of guinea pigs, we asked Guide readers to share their experiences at the loudest game. We’ve had so much fun, so many of you sharing memories of ear piercing experiences with bands and artists of all shapes, sizes and ages. So we thought we’d dedicate this week’s newsletter to your loudest stories, along with a few from the Guardian’s music critics, who are often on the front line when it comes to beatings.
We have to insert a (boring) disclaimer here: loud music can be really bad for your ears – just look at the legendary 80s post-punk band Mission of Burma, who ended up losing two decades due to their guitar playing. Roger Clark Miller punishes tinnitus. The areas where the Burmese and previous teams played were in the western part of the beast, with little sound insulation in the arenas or, in the ears of the people playing in those arenas. Fortunately, technology has advanced since then: I’ve got smart-looking headphones right away to hand over my keys, and there’s always a free bar behind the bar if you’re desperate – though some always succumb to the cheap, unnecessary thrills.
Either way, ear protection or not, there’s nothing like a loud gig. Let’s hear about some of the favorites…
Guardian writers at their loudest gigs
I saw My Bloody Valentine (guitarist Bilinda Butcher, pictured above) played a lot in the late 80’s and early 90’s. At a show in London, I vividly remember seeing the sound engineer standing awkwardly at his mixing desk, headphones off and his fingers in his ears. Rumors of their loudness seemed to grow when the band was on hiatus, and at their comeback gig in 2008, they seemed intent on doing just that. Earplugs were distributed at the door. Even wearing them, the incredible volume was inescapable. It made your clothes move, independent of your body. Strangely, it seems to change the size of the venue: they were playing the Roundhouse, which used to be a 3,000-seat railway engine, but my memory tells me that the gig took place in a small, claustrophobic room. At one point, I made the bold decision to remove one earbud, just to see how it sounded. It felt like someone slapped me hard, right through the left ear. After learning, I quickly returned the earplugs. Alexis Petridis, Guardian head of rock and pop critic
The loudest show I’ve ever seen was Healthy O))) at the ATP festival. For two minutes I watched the two men dressed as trees (as I remember) playing gut-wrenching music and decided it wasn’t worth the risk. I’ve seen Sunn O))) at festivals twice since I came out anyway: I wasn’t happy with the volume because of it and – even though I like a lot of doom metal – I don’t find their music interesting enough to justify it. But the volume of words and purpose makes me feel like I’m winning. Twice in the last week alone, everything I’ve destroyed in my ears has revived my life. When RosaliaThe Lux tour stopped at London’s O2 last week, they had the Heritage Orchestra on the floor, playing at an airplane volume. The confusion between the instrumentalists and the computer support system during Berghain’s single was so intense that for a second my body thought the only way to make sense was one of real fear; Then the rapture began. A few days later, at the Brudenell Social Club in Leeds, I saw the guests of the day. Angina’s chest (pictured above) playing so loud, and with such madness, that I felt like I was thrown in front of Mad Max’s ribcage as it roared through the desert (that’s a compliment). Laura Snapes, the Guardian’s deputy music editor
I know from the information that Kevin Martin, AKA UK bass warrior Bug, would prefer to leave the gig rather than sound, but apparently the sound system set up in another Hoxton basement was deemed appropriate. The date and circumstances of this unreleased gig now escape me – perhaps a part of Boiler Room? – but his three noises King Midas Sound the whipping was unforgettable. This was transformed into a post-apocalyptic horror: a slow thump like a giant hammer into the stone of the cold earth, with a shrill sound between the blows. Without earplugs and worried that it would cause serious damage to my ears, I ended up bursting every now and then trying to put my fingers in my ears so carelessly. Ben Beaumont-Thomas, music editor of the Guardian
I had a very loud performance in a very dark room at Bristol’s Arnolfini gallery. Tim Hecker was topping the bill completed by fellow noiseniks Ben Frost and Ekoplex. I stupidly stood in front of the speakers and the body was pushed by Hecker of rotten loops from his career-good record Ravedeath, 1972. When his set came to the end I realized that I moved about 10 meters forward back, after the primal survival instinct was pushed. After 15 years we got married and have two children. My breath isn’t bad but it’s nowhere near the ribs Mr Hecker produced. Lanre Bakare, Guardian culture reporter
Guide readers to their most uplifting game
“In the early 70’s I had the opportunity to see almost every rock band, most of them at Newcastle City Hall. Deep Purple (pictured above). I remember going to school the next day without hearing a word the teacher said, and it took two days to recover… – Paul Walsh
“In 1987, Happy Monday invited by The Farm to help them head home to the mysterious Picket. After 50 years of gig-going, it’s still the loudest thing I’ve ever heard. Just thinking about that Monday night still hurts my ears for 40 years. I don’t know how he was able to shout like that or why he thought it was necessary. Most of the people stayed in the bar but I was caught up in their chaos, the brutal noise. I don’t remember what the Farm was like that night because I was shaking – and I couldn’t hear anything. – Kevin McManus
“Jeff Brothers in the lounge (Luca Lounge, Auckland). I found an old store receipt in my jacket pocket. I tore it off and shoved it in my ears! The most amazing dental drama.” – Lainey McNee
“Leftfield at Liverpool’s Royal Court theatre, 11 June 1996. The bass end of the Monster sound system they were using made the woodwork in the foyer reverberate, almost drowning out the music inside. Throughout the show, plaster fins from the ceiling floated down to the crowd. I heard years later that the reason the venue hosted so little rock/dance music afterwards (and at a controlled volume, no doubt) was that Leftfield’s noise had destroyed the foundation of the building! – Tim Barlow
“I went to see a Canadian band Piss at the Brudenell Social Club last Sunday. Jesus Christ, it was a heart attack. ” – Francis Fowles
“The loudest play of all?” Swans at the Town and Country club in London in 1987. You couldn’t think of anything but the noise while it was happening. People flocked outside. I became and now wear hearing aids. But it was unusual.” – Keith Knight
“I saw it Led Zeppelin play Hardrock in Manchester in 1972. My ears still ring today when I heard Robert Plant perform Immigrant Song that night. Motörhead loud? Not in the same league as Prime Led Zeppelin. ” – Myles Flynn
“Nickleback. O2 is. Also, don’t judge me!” – Sharon Eckman
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