Of Cathedrals and Catacombs

Sold out. Around 150 people are crammed into the Gaswerk’s small foyer in Winterthur on Saturday, 10 October. After a rainy, chilly autumn day, things are soon about to heat up here. And unexpectedly, the night turns out to be full of contrasts.

First, Lone Assembly erect their epic Gothic cathedrals. They are the reason I’m actually here. An outstanding album, Knots & Chains, and plenty of hype envelop the band from Lausanne like mist on stage.

On paper, they’re the support act; on stage, a co-headliner. One anthem follows another, performed with the same stoicism as when I last saw them in March, yet more dynamic and liberated. Without making a big fuss, they soar to great heights.

As I sink, with great pleasure, into this melancholic sense of being overwhelmed, I quickly realise that my verdict from earlier this year still holds: they don’t explode; they expand. There’s no escalation, but rather a reverent euphoria that culminates in In The Open and finds a perfect conclusion in A Dark Score, without a doubt my favourite track on Knots & Chains. Their songs command the space with a confident certainty.

But from Lone Assembly’s artfully constructed cathedral, things now take a rapid downward turn. Not in terms of quality—far from it—but down into the catacombs. Twin Noir await there.

And this duo is the complete opposite. From a goth-rock sermon to a sweat-inducing post-punk rave. Verbose, raw, somehow quirky, absurd, even funny. It’s all about self-scan checkouts, black cats, club nostalgia and kebab prices. And yet Twin Noir’s sound is deeply rooted in the dark.

With Lone Assembly, I was still swaying gently like a tree in the wind; now, I hardly know what’s happening to me. Mesmerised, I’m now stamping my feet to the harsh electroclash beat, headbanging to the screeching guitar and cursing my turtleneck in this escalating sauna.

Twin Noir, I must admit, wasn’t a name I was familiar with before this Saturday. On the way there, I devoured their exquisite new album, Chapter 3. But I certainly didn’t expect such a performance—no, not at all.

On the train home, I find myself thinking: this contrast in black, this rich tapestry of sombre sounds ranging from the iconic aesthetics of the 80s to flashes of electro-punk, is a wondrous beauty.