- Walk a few flights below the designer boutiques, Italian specialty markets and doggie hair salons of Daikanyama, and you'll find yourself in Unit. The club and concert space is about as no-nonsense as venues come. When I arrived there for Future Terror's 12th anniversary party, I waded past the bar and entered the sunken dance floor. There was hardly a light on in the place, save a few dim spots illuminating the opening act, Twin Peaks. The crowd, when you could see it, was less a mass of techno fans than a constellation of individual enthusiasts, their heads down and movements locked to the beat thrumming through Unit's crisp soundsystem. Quite obviously assembled for the heads, the evening's lineup fit perfectly with these surroundings.
The lights stayed low for Metasplice's live set. The Philadelphia duo trades in a sort of electronic noise that sometimes morphs into a beat, as if by chance. Even when there wasn't a pulse to be found, though, I found myself moving to the sheets of sound flowing from the system. The music was impressive, but so was they rig conveying it: more immersive than loud, it really gave the sense of being inside something, and it let music that might generally be a bit abstract for a club environment work wonderfully.
Vril, a Hannover-based member of the tight-knit Giegling crew, was up next. When he started, the club's lighting rig suddenly switched on, sprinkling the room in color for the first time. Vril's take on dubby house and techno made more sense to dance to than Metasplice's performance, but it wasn't nearly as physical, and I found my attention wandering a bit.
Both Metasplice and Vril played up on the stage, but DJ Nobu stood in a booth at ground level. His face takes on a fierce, if not crazed expression when he plays, and there were moments when the bank of CDJs and turntables seemed to be all that was holding him back from ripping into the crowd. He'd occasionally settle into a standard 4/4, but he seemed to take pleasure in selecting the most irregular techno beats possible, mixing one into the next like an angry god assembling a tempest. I didn't recognize any of the tracks, but there were some peculiar anthems among them, with razor-sharp wisps of melody and warped rhythms engendering the sort of dance moves that make you happy no one can see you through the darkness. With so many twists and tangents, his extended set flew past, and I soon found myself trudging up the stairs and into a crisp Tokyo morning feeling slightly pulverized. I'd take that beating again any time.