Kate Hutchinson 

Carter Tutti Void review – a lesson in the primal power of noise

At the trio’s sold-out improvisational show, each track is like its own mini DJ set, writes Kate Hutchinson
  
  

Carter Tutti Void
An ear-drum-rupturing journey … Carter Tutti Void Photograph: PR

An almighty industrial thump chomps through air thick with sweat. The sound of robotic foxes rutting at night with an oscillating wobble board. Cars skid, horns scratch and guitars squawk along to heavy thuds. Low groans fills what little space is left. This is not, it must be said, music for those feeling fragile of mind. Rather, Carter Tutti Void’s improvisational show is a lesson in the primal power of noise. It’s a Tuesday night in east London, but it could just as easily be 11am at Berghain nightclub in Berlin.

Tonight is the second of two sold-out nights following the trio’s debut at the Roundhouse in 2011, which was turned into a live album on Mute Records called Transverse. Chris Carter and Cosey Fanni Tutti of Throbbing Gristle have long been innovators of face-blowtorching beats, but for CTV they team up with Nik Void from the avant-garde techno group Factory Floor, who carefully brushes her treated guitar with a violin bow as Carter prods a panoply of effects pedals and old drum machines and Fanni Tutti grinds a steel slider-topped finger along her MIDI guitar’s fretboard with the air of a secretary squinting at a Microsoft Excel spreadsheet.

“Proper music!” yells one enthusiastic audience member above the joyous din between tracks. And, in many ways, they’re right. It’s not much to look at – three solemn characters in black stood behind tables of equipment – but Carter Tutti Void’s bludgeoning drone bravely pits itself against the sustain-release catharsis of modern dance music, subtly building their sound with each musician coming in without the need for headphones or pre-programmed cue points. Each track is like its own mini DJ set, taking you on an eardrum-rupturing journey as the crowd lean into the music, in thrall to its repetitive crunch.

Kate Hutchinson.

 

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