Attack of the Drones
"It's not easy or even pleasant for a lot of people," Greg Anderson says of his music, chatting via phone from LA's Southern Lord Records office, the label he runs with longtime accomplice, Stephen O'Malley. "For a lot of our audience, it kind of becomes an endurance test. If they can withstand the show, there's a sense of accomplishment." For those uninitiated into the hour and a half long guttural, fog-laden and robe-clad subsonic ambience of Sunn 0))), such comments might be mistaken for levity. But any lingering doubt about Anderson's sincerity is quickly put to rest by his no-nonsense tone. "It's safe to say then that Sunn 0)))'s music isn't for everyone?" I ask, after hearing a few quick anecdotes of the nausea and general bodily discomfort sometimes experienced by audience members during the group's lengthy, pauseless set. "Definitely not," Anderson answers. This is, after all, a band whose seeds were planted by Thorr's Hammer, the Anderson/ O'Malley doom metal group. That band featured such pop music signposts as drums and vocals. Influenced in both name and sound by Olympians, Earth, Sunn 0))) distilled the music to its droning essence.
"Everyone says some of our early recordings sound like Black Sabbath stripped of everything, and slowed way down," says Anderson. "And I don't think that's too far off."
Over time, the minimalist-sounding Sabbath evolved into something even more theatrically morose, involving robed band members and ritualistic smoke and lights.
"I think a lot of the mystery and magic has been lost these days. We're just trying to offer people something different," Anderson assures.
"What we'd like to do is not put on a typical jeans and T-shirt, slam dance-in-the-pit type of show. We want to create something more of an event that the audience has not seen before."
However, if the band continues it's potentially vomit inducing droning, you might also see a few disclaimers on your way in the club.