The classic splash gracing the cover of Live in London (artfully mimicking the classic album design of RCA albums) is the visual mantra of Brian Pyle’s one-man deconstruction. But on a stage, Pyle is pouring out solitude in 40-minute spurts. Live in London is a man alone in The Vortex, not giving a shit about perception, killing off the old Ensemble Economique one release at a time and wiping his fingerprints from the trigger. Shredding tape loops, shrouding them in a mass of inhumane static until the results are unrecognizable. Aside from the anguished wail of “Do You?” from Sinead O’Connor’s “Nothing Compares 2 U,” much of Live in London is caustic noir. It’s punch-drunk on violence, wildly swinging until it makes contact with the audience. It won’t stop until the pulp has been beaten out of everyone before Pyle washes out the blood stains and goes on destroying what he once held as truth. Pyle’s collecting insurance on a dead entity, using it to build a new identity in a new place, with no remorse for the ruthlessness of obtaining a second life.
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