- Whether through Sandwell District or their more recent label projects Downwards America and Jealous God, Regis and Silent Servant have long been committed to detonating that old cliché that techno is "just about the music." Both artists have close ties with Tropic Of Cancer: Mendez was a member of the band in its early days (and is married to its key member, Camello Lobo), and O'Connor contributed production expertise to recent LP Restless Idylls. But one imagines the pair would have been fans even if they'd only discovered the project last week.
Tropic Of Cancer live was a carefully constructed visual event. Everything seemed considered, from the duo's outfits (Lobo and Dva Damas' Taylor Burch, on touring guitarist duties, wore matching crimson trouser suits) to their manner (Lobo permitted herself a louche high-heeled foot-tap along to the funereal drum machine pulse; Burch glowered woundedly at her audience). Projections behind them riffed on the faded glamour of Pedro Maia's recent video. Unfortunately, the performance was a lesson in how fragile such a construct can be: playing to a thin crowd in Trouw's large main room at the beginning of the night, the duo struggled to captivate—a fact not helped by some early projection upsets (the Apple logo and a roaming cursor were presumably not part of the scheduled entertainment).
Still, Lobo's dirge-like compositions, interspersed with marvellously gothic excerpts from Delia Derbyshire's "Falling," were a pleasure to hear spilling from the Trouw soundsystem. And though it didn't feel like Lobo showcased her full expressive range—perhaps that was down to the live arrangements, far sparser then their on-record counterparts, and in places a little dull—Tropic Of Cancer has always been about fostering a sort of anti-charisma, a dolorous monotony that slowly draws you in.
A few hours later, the hall suitably packed out, Silent Servant took the opposite approach, announcing his arrival with brash cuts (and the occasional shaky mix). The opening, in particular, was compact but fearsomely funky; later he would dip into the baleful Sandwell-isms that were perhaps expected of him, and the occasional classic was welcomed (the scorched Kalon remix of Mendez's own "Violencia" being a particular highlight). Regis, by contrast, sound positively staid. Yes, his barrage of remorseless death-march techno was imposing, but it was also rather featureless, a slickly-mixed monolith mostly lacking in dynamism. Perhaps we could have done with a few more surprises.