- Graz is a quintessential European postcard city. Its Altstadt—German for "old town"—is quaint and beautiful, lined with networks of narrow lanes and soundtracked by wheezing accordions. The Schlossberg, a pretty hill smothered in trees offering views of distant snow-capped alps, is crowned by the Uhrturm, a large clocktower whose history stretches all the way back to the 13th century. Hidden beneath the city's central landmarks are a system of tunnels, originally carved into the guts of the hill to protect the population from air raids in WWII. These same tunnels now house Elevate, a festival that's been running for more than 12 years.
It's a suitably imposing site for a festival. After winding through the streets of the old town, you eventually reach an illuminated cutting on the side of the hill that disappears out of sight in a haze of red and blue lighting. You steadily ascend the tunnel, flanked on either side by dimly lit grottos, before reaching the festival's main venue, Dom Im Berg. It's an impressive space, with a domed roof and curved walls that appeared to be covered with some sort of synthetic material, which perhaps contributed to the impressive clarity of the sound.
The system and space were ably tested by the huge range of dynamics and textures covered by ZSAMM, the duo of Slovenian electronic artist and vocalist Maja Osojnik and drummer Patrick Wurzwallner. Osojnik's voice was assertive yet versatile, often sitting in a striking tenor register, though huge plumes of bass, which at times seemed to be the product of deliberate microphone feedback, threatened to envelope the generally complementary interactions between the two performers. Despite their obvious technical abilities, they thrived in looser, restrained moods, which tended to be more evocative than their heavier salvos.
Jenny Hval strode onstage draped in blood-red cloth and lumpy ropes of plush material that looked like a string of sausages. Her voice, clear and true as a bell, is so exceptional it immediately sets her apart from other performers. She's in total control in a technical sense but even more so from an emotional standpoint, seemingly able to follow her muse unhindered. She sang imploringly at the lumpen material, which she later referred to as her "insides." She was followed by Camella Lobo's Tropic Of Cancer project, who, staying wilfully obscure, are a markedly different kettle of fish. While they didn't attempt to scale the heights that Hval reached so effortlessly, their dank mood and low intensity was arguably better suited to the setting and occasion.
The next space below Dom Im Berg was Tunnel, a low-roofed, long, cylindrical room that produced some sickening bass frequencies. It was a credit to the engineers that the sound remained balanced, even if at one point, during Fis's set at the Different Circles showcase on Sunday morning, my hoodie was literally blown off my head. (It's worth pointing out that Elevate has markedly improved in this regard—the sound struggled in the same room a few years back.) Fis's performance was predictably advanced. There were no drums or clear grooves, yet it simultaneously steamrolled and refreshed the small audience. Although there were moments of devastating impact, it was more about the psychedelic wash of sounds, which seemed to bleed into a single amorphous mass. This was soundsystem music that traded in something more elemental than standard club fare.
Fis frustratingly coincided with Inga Copeland, who was appearing as Lolina. Her performance took place in the appropriately titled Dungeon, which sat directly under the Uhrturm. It was another moody space with an initially unsettling vibe—you entered by shooting up a shaft in a glass-walled elevator before crunching along loose gravel into a cold room that had the feel of a disused torture chamber. Despite a faulty mic and the house lights randomly turning on at the beginning of her set, Copeland was bewitching. She began with a typically cryptic phrase: "Assist the death of dance music, assist me with my problem," which was dubbed and pitch-shifted into uncanny shapes. From there the set developed in daring ways. Sometimes it seemed like things were going nowhere, only to explode suddenly into new territory.
Back in Tunnel, I was surprised to hear whoops of recognition greeting many of Logos's bigger selections, proof that his brand of nuanced but slamming grime has fans far beyond the UK. His mixing was slick to say the least. None of his cuts sounded superfluous or forced (which is rare even for top DJs) and the timing of some of his mixes could not be topped, betraying an inside-out knowledge of track structure. It was my first time seeing him live and it was properly immersive, even if I'd heard many of the tracks before. The same could be said for Paranoid London, whose gloriously screwy house was causing destruction in the main room, which was rammed enough to have the feel of a proper rave. While I ultimately got more out of the non-dance music acts, thanks to the excellent sound and vibey venues, Elevate nevertheless pulled together a good party atmosphere as Sunday morning progressed. The festival covered a lot of musical bases without feeling too cluttered, and all in a setting that not many of its competitors can match.
Photo credit /
Clara Wildberger - Lead, Jenny Hval
Johanna Lamprecht - Inga Copeland, Tunnel, Empty Tunnel
The system and space were ably tested by the huge range of dynamics and textures covered by ZSAMM, the duo of Slovenian electronic artist and vocalist Maja Osojnik and drummer Patrick Wurzwallner. Osojnik's voice was assertive yet versatile, often sitting in a striking tenor register, though huge plumes of bass, which at times seemed to be the product of deliberate microphone feedback, threatened to envelope the generally complementary interactions between the two performers. Despite their obvious technical abilities, they thrived in looser, restrained moods, which tended to be more evocative than their heavier salvos. Jenny Hval strode onstage draped in blood-red cloth and lumpy ropes of plush material that looked like a string of sausages. Her voice, clear and true as a bell, is so exceptional it immediately sets her apart from other performers. She's in total control in a technical sense but even more so from an emotional standpoint, seemingly able to follow her muse unhindered. She sang imploringly at the lumpen material, which she later referred to as her "insides." She was followed by Camella Lobo's Tropic Of Cancer project, who, staying wilfully obscure, are a markedly different kettle of fish. While they didn't attempt to scale the heights that Hval reached so effortlessly, their dank mood and low intensity was arguably better suited to the setting and occasion.
The next space below Dom Im Berg was Tunnel, a low-roofed, long, cylindrical room that produced some sickening bass frequencies. It was a credit to the engineers that the sound remained balanced, even if at one point, during Fis's set at the Different Circles showcase on Sunday morning, my hoodie was literally blown off my head. (It's worth pointing out that Elevate has markedly improved in this regard—the sound struggled in the same room a few years back.) Fis's performance was predictably advanced. There were no drums or clear grooves, yet it simultaneously steamrolled and refreshed the small audience. Although there were moments of devastating impact, it was more about the psychedelic wash of sounds, which seemed to bleed into a single amorphous mass. This was soundsystem music that traded in something more elemental than standard club fare. Fis frustratingly coincided with Inga Copeland, who was appearing as Lolina. Her performance took place in the appropriately titled Dungeon, which sat directly under the Uhrturm. It was another moody space with an initially unsettling vibe—you entered by shooting up a shaft in a glass-walled elevator before crunching along loose gravel into a cold room that had the feel of a disused torture chamber. Despite a faulty mic and the house lights randomly turning on at the beginning of her set, Copeland was bewitching. She began with a typically cryptic phrase: "Assist the death of dance music, assist me with my problem," which was dubbed and pitch-shifted into uncanny shapes. From there the set developed in daring ways. Sometimes it seemed like things were going nowhere, only to explode suddenly into new territory.
Back in Tunnel, I was surprised to hear whoops of recognition greeting many of Logos's bigger selections, proof that his brand of nuanced but slamming grime has fans far beyond the UK. His mixing was slick to say the least. None of his cuts sounded superfluous or forced (which is rare even for top DJs) and the timing of some of his mixes could not be topped, betraying an inside-out knowledge of track structure. It was my first time seeing him live and it was properly immersive, even if I'd heard many of the tracks before. The same could be said for Paranoid London, whose gloriously screwy house was causing destruction in the main room, which was rammed enough to have the feel of a proper rave. While I ultimately got more out of the non-dance music acts, thanks to the excellent sound and vibey venues, Elevate nevertheless pulled together a good party atmosphere as Sunday morning progressed. The festival covered a lot of musical bases without feeling too cluttered, and all in a setting that not many of its competitors can match. Photo credit / Clara Wildberger - Lead, Jenny Hval Johanna Lamprecht - Inga Copeland, Tunnel, Empty Tunnel