Her Name Is Calla – Rhythm Factory, London, 14/04/2011

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Photos by Sebastien Dehesdin

In many ways the last five minutes of Her Name Is Calla’s set tonight is the only timeframe you need to witness just how incredible the band are live. This final glimpse of a forty-minute set captures the band in such a seismic shift – and to a certain extent a frighteningly violent state of musicality – and is enough to win over anyone who thinks that sweeping instrumental music played by mini-orchestras is mundane or a product of stereotype.

Unfurling from behind the layers of muted strings, hushed keys and feather-light brushes against cymbals, Her Name Is Calla’s final five minutes explode in an unexpectedly brutal manner. A far cry from their prior state of quietude, the band’s finale is manic, frantic yet fluid.

The drummer, mid song, suddenly stands and hammers a snare with all his might. The synth player also gets to his feet and starts crashing drum sticks against a box, while simultaneously screaming down a microphone. While the keys player remains seated, hammering his fingers against the keys, the cellist thrashes her fingers up and down the strings in a visceral manner, as the group’s guitarist smashes his instrument against the amps. It is savage, and although you’re expecting a crashing finale set-piece from a band of such varied scope and high creative calibre, it’s still completely unexpected.

As a guitar is hurled across the stage and kicked repeatedly, the deafening reverberation surrounds my ears, and I watch open-mouthed, completely aghast and taken-aback at the brutality on display.

Although on paper, or indeed flickered across a computer screen, this probably sounds like something from a violent hardcore freak-out, the sounds emitted are nothing short of beautiful. It’s a staggering combination of the charming and the callous that many artists strive for, but few succeed in creating. Her Name Is Calla completely embody this rare quality, both on record and on stage. But despite the veneer and vision of an impromptu, instrumental free-for-all, there’s still a sense that there’s a precision at work, and that every hit and smash is carefully planned and executed with the final sound in mind.

This isn’t to say that the band are afraid to let loose – they are clearly talented masters of their individual instruments. It’s just that based on the carefully complex offerings that the band have demonstrated so far in their set, it’s hard to imagine that every single note, thud and trailing echo of reverberation of this finale isn’t calculated and there for a precise, perfect reason.

Within their six-song set Her Name Is Calla take their audience through the varying moods and atmospheres that their multifaceted music creates. The quintet initially storm through older material before treating fans to a live preview of their latest recording ‘Maw’. At only five-minutes long ‘Maw’ shows off a new sense of songwriting amongst the band and its more immediate beginning and lack of long-winded build-up makes for a snappier, dramatic interlude between otherwise delicate and soft surroundings.

There’s a real notion of craftsmanship at work in every moment of their songs, and on-stage these elements are even more obvious. Usually accompanied by a violinist, tonight’s audience are treated to a guest performance by The Monroe Transfer’s cellist. Switching the strings makes for an interesting live assimilation of their songs, and much of her freestyling interpretations of the band’s tracks add an incredible element to the set, while also staying true to many of their recorded version’s own fleeting cello passages.

There’s little talk between songs other than a reference to their relentless touring, evidenced by the unspeakable bind between the band and flawless instrumental drifts. ‘Condor And River’ highlights this perfectly, as they switch between instruments and echo haunting, repetitive vocals around the room. The ability to make a punishing 20-minute long song appear effortlessly energetic on their part and not a needlessly long passage of music for their spectators is an impressive feat. ‘The Long Grass’ is another majestic number, beginning with the unwinding notes of a banjo and giving way to an all-encompassing wall of sound, surrounding their audience and provoking varied reactions of awe-struck inertia and accelerated activity.

Which brings us back full-circle to those final flights of frenetic fusion. Seen as a whole, the entire set can be taken as a lesson on how to captivate and surprise an audience – even once that knows the full back catalogue by heart, or it can be viewed as an example of how to capture the attention of those who don’t. Some of those watching are silent, eyes closed. Others thrash around as intermittently as the games console controller clutched in Calla’s keyboardist’s hand. Yet for all those mesmerising moments of sombre quiet, it’s still those final minutes that ring through your ears and run through your mind on the way home. Simply put Her Name Is Calla are spellbinding.