tAngerinecAt | Modulator ESP
Lending Room, Leeds
ninth October 2025
Louder Than Warfare’s Andy Brown heads to the Lending Room to look at tAngerinecAt ship an intense and atmospheric efficiency.
I’d been hoping to see Ukrainian/ UK duo tAngerinecAt stay ever since I first heard their chic 2022 LP, Glass. It was a kind of distinctive releases that simply stopped me in my tracks. This yr they launched their seventh album – the quite sensible Grief – and introduced that they’d be taking their industrial-flavoured experimentation out on tour. Tonight, underneath the quilt of an enormous yellow moon and with an autumnal chill within the air, they arrive on the Lending Room in Leeds.
First up, we get a set from one-man synth grasp Jez Creek, aka Modulator ESP. Sat behind a desk chock-full of synths, pedals and pads, Creek delivers one steady and ever-evolving digital piece. Leaning into darkish ambient territory, we’re plunged right into a nocturnal world of deep drone.
It’s the sort of music that makes me want I used to be mendacity on the grass outdoors, staring up on the moon. The sort of set that actually takes you on a journey. Spooky, Coil-esque sounds sneak into the combo, and by the en,d it seems like some triumphant, sci-fi soundtrack. Excellent.
tAngerinecAt takes to the stage with Paul Chilton (they/them) stood behind a laptop computer and a keyboard, and Zhenia Purpurovsky (he/him) positioned behind a drum pad. The sonic exorcism begins with March of Mourn as Purpurovsky sings over a skeletal industrial beat: “Let me paint/ Let me paint/ Let me paint over this story endlessly.” There’s power within the stillness when the singer stands immobile, drumsticks crossed towards their chest. It’s such a singular sound, and the duo are intensely invested in each single second.
It’s all concerning the environment, the strain and the areas between the sound. Certainly, there are moments of silence throughout the set when you possibly can virtually hear a pin drop. The dearth of chatter between songs ensures the spell stays unbroken. Grief – the title monitor from their newest LP – begins with an a cappella vocal sung totally in Ukrainian. The latter a part of the tune seems like some cosmic funeral procession and – to my ears – invokes the attractive Going Up by post-industrial legends Coil (I need to actually have them on my thoughts tonight).
Throughout Cyhyraeth, Purpurovsky ventures to the entrance of the stage – drumsticks in hand – and engages in an intense, almost-ritualistic dance. The drones rumble and roll as he strikes by the sound. After this, there’s a short second of respite and a spherical of applause from the assembled devotees. Because the music subsides, I turn into conscious about my racing heartbeat. The duo specialises within the sort of depth that actually sneaks up on you.
The music is definitely darkish and brooding, but there’s an actual sense of catharsis right here too. The Irish Sea provides up one such second of launch whereas Hearth burns with a tangible sense of rage and disgust. “I’m outdated/ And my roots are within the ocean/ Not a rustic or a nation,” Purpurovsky snarls over the songs industrial clang. Oh, and Chilton even provides somewhat flute to the experimental stew. The sound is distinctly up to date but by some means primordial. Within the age of AI, it’s reassuring to be stood right here listening to one thing so uncooked and actual.
Freedom is propelled by a minimalistic beat and one other admirably impassioned vocal efficiency from Purpurovsky. Once more, the duo’s use of house and silence actually amplifies the drama. Subaltern finds the singer spitting within the face of some would-be oppressor: “Who’re you to inform me who I’m? Who do you suppose you’re to outline me?” Anger, pleasure and defiance drip from each final phrase.
Gwyn ap Nudd – they clarify – is a title pulled from Welsh mythology and serves as an emblem of transformation. What follows is a sheer wall of interstellar synths that drowns us in a tsunami of stars. As soon as once more, I discover myself going up.
It’s been an absolute pleasure to listen to Grief delivered in its entirety. In reality, it’s so good, I genuinely wish to return to the beginning of the gig and do all of it once more. When you benefit from the extra esoteric aspect of underground music and haven’t seen tAngerinecAt carry out, you then actually are lacking out.
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You could find tAngerinecAt on Fb, Instagram and Bandcamp.
Modulator ESP is on Instagram and Bandcamp.
All photographs by Jim Mumby | You could find him on Fb and Instagram.
All phrases by Andy Brown. You may go to his writer profile and skim extra of his critiques for Louder Than Warfare right here.
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