45 minutes late for their half-hour set, Doomsquad’s exploratory music is rendered all the more dissonant when paired with the poor quality of sound and acoustics at the stifling Moth Club. Given the Toronto-based sibling group’s proclivity for oddity and the avant-garde, perhaps all of these encumbering effects are intentional.

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Remarkably fitting with their gimmicky makeup and the regrettable name that they’ve fashioned for themselves, Doomsquad’s music is conducive to the entranced, zombie-like swaying and bobbing that the band did not cease to demonstrate themselves. The effort they put into achieving an artsy and offbeat macabre ethos is excruciatingly obvious, and perhaps they would do well at a local talent show, however, their set in a London club on a Thursday night is met with a tepid reception, and after less than ten songs, barely half of the paltry audience stick around for the encore.

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Their sound can be described as pseudo-psychedelic electronic derived from appropriated tribal beats and married with otherworldly moaning and wailing (rather embarrassing vocals to listen to, in short). Any song that starts with a good rhythm or the potential to be listenable is quickly ruined once the vocal accompaniment begins, especially when Trevor Blumas, who sounds like he’s making a desperate attempt to emulate Frank Black, takes the mic. The interesting textures and enveloping tones that are evident on their debut Kalaboogie or their latest Total Time are completely lost in the live performance. The only saving grace is delivered by the Hasko brothers, who not only support the act but also ground them and carry the show on drums and bass.

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Doomsquad offers a cacophony that an extremely far stretch of the imagination may sugar-coat as experimental sound art; if this is at all enticing, it is recommended to listen to their recorded material rather than seek out a live show.

 

 

 

 

Verdict: ★☆☆☆☆

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Watch the video for Ovoo here

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