Just Mustard by Milly Cope
For Just Mustard, less is definitely more.
With two albums to their name, Irish five-piece Just Mustard have built up a steady following over their career to-date.
Although their brand of doom-laden, instrumentation-heavy rock is unlikely to see them break into the mainstream, for fans of the group they are a pleasingly well-kept secret.
That said, tonight’s (September 14th) show at the 250-capacity Exchange is sold out and packed to the rafters, one of those ‘can’t reach your phone’ type of gigs. Which is all the better, as the Dundalk group are immersive and deserve, nay demand, the audience’s full attention.
The force of their blistering guitars is immediate on slow-burning opener 23, the members setting their stall out as the calm amidst the storm of their music. Guitarist Mete Kalyon immediately catches the eye as he plays his instrument with a bow, scraping across the strings to create the sonic screeching while his bandmates harness the shuffling dread.
The quintet are a stationary gang, allowing the music to do the talking. After putting his bow down to play the guitar in a more traditional fashion for the remainder of the set, Kalyon disappears into the background. His counterpart, David Noonan, nods his head along but, barring some vocals himself, is largely stationary, while bassist Rob Clarke doesn’t even look up across the hour. Shoegazing of the best and most traditional kind.
Vocalist Katie Bell also does little apart from insouciantly shaking her tambourine on occasion, and one gets the impression that drummer Shane Maguire only moves because he has to.
So, showmanship is off the menu, but it’s not required, the music speaks for itself. The stark drumming and simple bass line of I Am You give way to a rising crescendo of reverb and feedback, while the waves of mournful soundscapes envelope and permeate the likes of Early and the Warpaint-influenced Seven.
At first there’s a tension in the venue, as if the group are daring the audience not to give them their full attention, but the ripples of applause get louder as the set progresses.
The jet engine roar of guitars on the likes of the mechanical Pigs or the wrenching sounds of Still, held together by what can only be described as a gong.
The droning beats and maelstroms of noise work in dichotomy to Bell’s largely sugar-sweet yet ethereal vocals, which soar on the likes of In Shade and October, where she very nearly drowns out the rest of the band. Possibly the best weapon in a formidable armoury.
Speaking of matters military, closing track Seeds marches with searing ferocity, like an army coming over the hill, devastating all in its wake.
Which seems to sum up Just Mustard: enigmatic and unapproachable in the way that volcanoes are. A set of just over an hour is probably as much as an average human could take, as it’s a masterclass in dark, abrasive and immersive rock.
They may not do much, but this unique band do it with breath-taking efficiency and volume.