IT'S an undeniable happening when Throbbing Gristle, cult legends of industrial music, reunited since 2004 for another crack of the whip, finally play their first gig in Scotland.
Not that you could see much happening in the first half. In a diso
rientatingly dark Tramway One (one can only guess at the number of balding fortysomething men in the audience), the quartet, seated at individual workstations as though absorbed in answering their emails, studiously improvised an ominous, hypnotic and occasionally shimmering soundtrack to a short film by artist Cerith Wynn Evans – actually more of a slideshow of snowy black and white stills portraying boys from south east Asia.
Genesis P-Orridge, dressed like a hippie art teacher, could have been painting his nails or sending a text for all the activity in his corner of the stage. But he came into his own fronting the second half, when the lights went up – and stayed up – to reveal what a truly eclectic constituency Throbbing Gristle actually attract to their gigs.
Chris Carter and Peter Christopherson, in lab coat and Dalmatian print housecoat respectively, tinkered at the back, while Cosey Fanni Tutti, on guitar and cornet, joined the pugnacious and playful Genesis up front. This set, comprising what could loosely be referred to as Gristle favourites such as Persuasion and Hamburger Lady, was organic, assured and engaging, ranging from coarse Cockney industrial dub to the unexpectedly poignant torch song Almost A Kiss. But it was all too brief for a visit which has been so long awaited.
