'Soft Centre Review 2022' / Carriageworks, June 4th
Seven Naarm locals squish into one bed for a Soft Centre voyage.
Ok, so there’s a bit of hyperbole in the title - but not that much.
Soft Centre: New ideas in sound, art and digital media:
Made its debut in 2017
A seasoned beast amongst friends
An event I’ve wanted to attend for years
Having been cock-blocked attending Soft Centre all these years due to exam season, distance, and the impenetrable series of lockdowns, it felt surreal that we were finally making our plight to what many would consider the apex of so-called Australia’s experimental audiovisual circuit.
It was as if that nagging speck on the tip of my tongue festering in desperation was finally about to have its chance to materialise into full-blown flavour - and with it, 5 of us eagerly waking up at 5am the previous day, ready for the ~10hr pilgrimage to another state.
So there we were: squished in a small car as doonas, sleeping bags and pillows suffocated the air between us; all so that we could turn our eventual one-bedder in Eora into a mansion fit for seven lords.
Previously taking place at Casula Powerhouse Arts Centre in the west of Eora, this was the first instalment of Soft Centre at Carriageworks - an event space home to events such as Mercedes-Benz Fashion Week, dance productions and different book/food markets. While I’d never been to the old location, friends had lamented its magic; from the hours-long trip on the bus to the venue that from the get-go would sow the seeds of community into the day, to the DIY aesthetic and intimate nature of the stages.
Intimate is not a word I’d use to describe Carriageworks, which instead felt overcome with the sense of openness and grandiosity alongside its industrial aesthetic. While magnificent and beautiful, the tension between the artistry and space was palpable, sometimes making its presence known in full force, and at other times fizzling as we surrendered ourselves to the illusion.
But, for now, we felt blessed to have travelled interstate to the warmth, listening to the Welcome to Country in the expanse of the foyer to signify the start of Soft Centre 2022.
The first performance we saw was Sumn Conduit, where Dharawal/Inuit vocalist Sonya Holowell and modular synthesist Ben Carey were colouring Bay 17 in a ritualistic expression of operatic singing, hypnotising visuals and tense electronic soundscapes.
Moments of extreme climax were met with light explosions that extended to the dance-floor like searching spotlights, before dissolving into pitch-black until the only audible sound was micro-movements in Ben’s synthesis. Then, as if beseeching our intrigue, Sonya would start their spoken word performance again as the lights traveled, looking for a permanent fixture - sometimes glaring to the audience such that you couldn’t see a thing, and the only thing you could do was listen in awe and let the music overcome you.
“EUPHORIA! EUPHORIA! EUPHORIA!”
After being nurtured by Sumn Conduit, our eyes remained glued to the stage for the second performance in Bay 17 - SILENCE IN HEAVEN. Inspired by Ignmar Bergman’s The Seventh Seal, the bay was thrown into chaos under the ecstatic pressure of exclusive new music from California Girls, with additional arrangements by Marcus Whale and art direction by Chloe Corkran.
It was hyper-pop meets punk, leapfrog meets a 4x4 beat, California Girls screaming “EUPHORIA” while stomping in front of the screen, while the screen behind them was drenched in the iridescent hue of bright blue visuals. Marcus Whale and California girls often fell into a routine of synchronicity in movements: California Girls throwing Marcus Whale on their shoulders as they galloped across the stage, or Marcus Whale covering California Girls’ eyes with pressed hands, while they pretended to read from an open book in front of their hidden eyes. The operatic intensity of Sumn Conduit was duplicated two-fold in this performance, truly something I’d never seen before matched neither in dread nor drama, and the theatricality was extended as they left the last song to ring out to the audience, while they marched off the stage in completion.
It was time to make the inevitable excursion from Bay 17 to the other, slightly smaller stage - Bay 20. Exiting the foyer each time equated to trailing our fingers on the plush of red-wall corridors, only to feel as if we’d been quite abruptly and jarringly catapulted out of the rich, imaginative world which was so deeply contained within the theatre. There was something about the rigidity and definite structure of the venue which felt in direct opposition to the ethos of Soft Centre, which a friend described as “fitting a square into a circle”. That sort of disconnect is felt by artists, promoters, punters and everyone involved - lending us, at times, to feeling as if we’d been pulled out of the illusion, and each time forced to rebuild our suspension of disbelief in accordance with the deep storytelling taking place.
Nevertheless, each time we entered a Bay our critical perspectives as it came to the venue were dismantled, and this time I found myself utterly submerged to ‘Traces’ - the live audiovisual collaboration between DBR, Cypha, Brigitte Podrasky and Joan Shin. ‘Traces’ saw DBR and Cypha standing on stage, operating on different electronic textures and sounds as if they were scientists in a lab. In front of them hung a transparent screen with visuals projected onto it - specks of white that looked like they had been sprayed onto the screen, connecting and disconnecting like a neural network.
Usually the presence of a screen (or even a railing, a fence) in front of performers engenders that aforementioned critical perspective for me, but this time it was like live the audiovisual performance became a tool for connection itself - bringing the entire performance together and breathing a visual life into the sound experiments. For most people I spoke to this was their favourite set, but unfortunately I’m a stickler for rap so half-way through the pull of the other stage became too strong to resist and I begrudgingly trotted over, wishing that two acts I was desperate to see weren’t on at the same time.
Back to Bay 17. Feels like home now.
Plea Unit, the collaborative project between Teether, Bayang (the Bushranger) ft. Sevy and Endless Prowl, was taking the bay by storm. Starting of as a one-off track and digital collab during lockdown, Plea Unit’s debut live set saw the crew experiment on stage with the power of hushed vocals and perform some of their individual tracks with world-class banter between the Bushranger and Teether puncturing moments of silence in-between. The performance was enhanced by Endless Prowl’s motion capture, VR sculpted and 3D animated visuals - gee whiz.
Directly after Plea Unit the world in Bay 17 was turned upside down, sinking into what felt like the beginning of everything. brainbows was a performance by Austrian audiovisual artist Rainer Kohlberger, whose compositions featured extraordinary expertise in microtonal movements of one particular beep-like sound. The bass seeped in slowly, arriving only in the latter half of the set, and at the same time the visuals rose to assume one singular dot in centre screen, before multiplying to a scatter of dots on either side. A vocal-like synth pad overtook the space in a moment of rapture as the screen jumped from flashing white to an explosion of different colours, before eventually reverting straight to pitch black in time with the end of the music. It’s clear that Rainer’s sets are fuelled by a fascination with a sense of the infinite, because this transcendental set at once felt never-ending and singular. “Like the creation of the universe” my friend said to me, as we fell in comfort, eyes glued to the stage and arms over each other.
For the duration of Vivid Festival, the Foyer - aka the first space you see when you enter Carriageworks - was adorned by a huge, monolithic beam hanging from the ceiling. Created by Soft Centre co-director Sam Whiteside, their installation ‘contact’ mutated between pulsating white and red light, shifting in intensity and density almost as if tuned into our natural distortions in reality as the night went on. While it was usually fit to the drone compositions of Patrick Liney, at this moment Makeda’s live soundtracks formed the backdrop for the light to bounce and evolve.
Makeda’s first performance in three years was one of the few in the foyer, seeing emotive compositions matched with punk-adjacent vocals and roller figure skating. The audience carefully gathered in a circle to allow space for her and her two skaters to move as a trio with effortless ease in synchronized backward movement, or to allow Makeda to sit perched in the middle like a cracking egg while the other two spun around her, flashing their torches in rhythm with the swelling synths and heart-beat of the kick.
Roller skating to punk-electronic music wasn’t the only performance that shifted my understanding of electronic performance paradigms on its axis, since at the same time in Bay 17 Joshua Wells x Karina Utomo were casting all parameters regarding genre, style and structure into oblivion. Having featured the two of them in an interview on Verve before Soft Centre, I was extremely fascinated by their combined vision and set-up, though I was hesitant on how much I would enjoy the performance, never having had enjoyed metal much before. Boy, was I wrong. As the lights erupted in a cacophony of red fireworks, Josh tinkered with live drum manipulations that tinkered on breaks as Karina experimented with vocal dissonance and different levels of looping. It was primordial, powerful, distinct, and one of my favourite sets of the festival.
The second transformation that took place in the foyer was Leeroy New x RED REY x Wytchings pres. Aliens of Manila. It saw RED REY draped in an incredible wearable sculpture/costume crafted by Leeroy New, walking around with the intention of getting up-close and making feel uncomfortable with Wytchings’ soundscape blasting through the open space.
Screeching, dramatic pads rose to meet excess guitar distortion as red light flooded the area, briefly shifting to white light which would show the costume in its true form - a contraption of different shades of blue made from repurposed plastic, chains, and other materials; having RED REY look like an alien from a distant land.
What can I say? RP. Frkn. Boo.
Though my first footwork love was the late DJ Rashad, RP Boo was equally close - praised to the same level for being a godfather of the genre. While I was bummed to have missed RP Boo play the night before at everyone’s favourite Naarm venue in a more intimate setting, it was still incredible to see the work of a legend in the flesh in the (new) comfort of Bay 17 (home).
Dressed in an apron because he was cookin’ it up, RP Boo was playing house and juke classics, getting on the mic , often coming in front of the decks and dancing or just smiling at the expanse of people. Everyone was in great spirits in the crowd; warm lights sometimes touched us, but mostly friends were embracing, dancing in full spirit, and smiling with wide-eyed grins as RP Boo would film himself and the crowd, even while technical faults stopped the set a few times.
A perfect ending to the day → night, I felt blessed to have experienced my first Soft Centre, and I can’t wait for what’s next.
And, as always, what would any review be without a good set of dot points? E.g. the most digestible form of music journalism, e.g. a love letter to High Fidelity:
Three favourite acts:
Rainer Kohlberger
RP Boo
Plea Unit
Three best surprises:
Joshua Wells x Karina Utomo
Makeda (live)
Aliens of Manila
Three biggest regrets:
Not seeing Cresendoll x Club Chrome
Not seeing the full ‘traces’ (Bay 17 was lit tho)
Getting GYG delivered (it’s never as good as I think it’ll be)
Until next time X
Images by Sachin De Silva (@sach.desilva)
Article by Margarita Bassova (@rxtabass)
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