The Soft Moon in Whelan’s, Dublin, on October 19th 2015

The bongos have been known to induce rage in many a mind, for many a reason. Luis Vasquez has just cause. The Soft Moon’s stage set-up is a percussive treat, from the modified drum kit at the side of the stage, to the mounted tom and aforementioned hand drums that flank Vasquez’s synth, to the sampler that stands in front of the bass guitarist. Vasquez’s rhythm section are rock steady, his bongo stand less so, and how is a man supposed to induce a trance-like state when his bongos are wobbling all over the place?

Twinkranes have no such issues, with just a drum kit and Korg to deal with. “Move in there people, the walls will hold themselves” they instruct, kicking off with an intricate syncopated drumbeat layered up with high-pitched tones and crashing effects. At times, their motorik rhythms and intoned vocals come across like Goblin, or an early incarnation of Liars, with the drummer leading the set from the beginning. It often seems as if they choose complexity over the tune, and while there are some great moments, it doesn’t always come off – it’s impressive to watch the mechanics of a song being assembled from a deft drum pattern and various Korg noise, but the results can be erratic. Still though, it proves a more interesting experience than the headliners.

It’s a dark, pounding start from The Soft Moon, with Vasquez barking into the mic as his colleagues lay down the rhythmic base. “Hello…so quiet,” he observes as the first number ends, the Monday night crowd nowhere near as energetic as the man himself. Vasquez is certainly the liveliest presence in the room, bouncing around in the space between the kit and the synths when not dispensing that heavily reverbed guitar and vocal. The band’s main concern seems to lie with the exploration of tones and textures with guitar and voice, and the electronics at their disposal to modify them. It’s a cohesive sound, but it all becomes a bit nondescript after a point, coming out of its malaise when Vasquez downs guitar to drum on the edge of the mounted tom.

“I hope you don’t mind I’m getting drunk,” the singer tells us, and his ensuing walk-off establishes that he’s not kidding. When his bongos don’t co-operate after a flurry of beats from his hands, he lifts the stand and hurls it off the stage before exiting to the wings, leaving his bandmates to finish the song. The bongo incident has thrown him, it seems, as the next song falters at the start, but they recover enough to escalate matters to a final reverbed crescendo.

Vasquez’s guitar squall and barely decipherable vocals are the constant throughout, but things are at their most interesting when sticks are hammering skins or triggering a phased effect on samplers. It’s a largely enjoyable set of opaque electronic psych, post-punk and krautrock – same-y, but successful in its sustained sonic attack.