Muffpunch

Who the hell are we? Well you could visit •MUFPUNCH•. But you won't. So read one of our reviews by Uncle Nemesis from our 2003 performance at the 291 Gallery, London.

Muffpunch, as I've remarked before, are better than their name. Two besuited and masked gentlemen face each other at a table laden with electronic trickery. They blat chunks of distort-o-noise at each other, as if they're playing sonic chess. One of them steps forward and hammers and scrapes on a piece of metal with a carving knife. It's all surprisingly rhythmic and structured: at first you think they're just making an 'orrible racket, but in fact it's all worked out with more care than you'd initially assume. I'm willing to bet that Muffpunch go through all the same songwriting and rehearsal processes as any other band. It's just that their raw material and end results are...different. There's even a Burt Bacarach cover, which suffers somewhat from an inaudible vocal, but it's a nice idea, and underlines that Muffpunch do seem to have some sort of fractured respect for The Song. Throughout all this, the big screen shows a clockwork toy clown beating manically on a drum: ah, a neat little comment on machine-music, I think wisely to myself. Or maybe they just thought it looked funny. At the end of the set, the two suited figures formally shake hands across their table, as if they've just reached agreement after a discussion, some sort of negotiation-by-noise. Perhaps we should suggest this method to George Bush...but then again, no. He's got *much* louder hardware.

But to really understand what we're about come along to The Enterprise in Chalk Farm, London on the 14th October and see for yourself.