LIVE FROM THE PIT: Xiu Xiu
- Ellen Lovell
- 7 hours ago
- 4 min read
In the twenty-four years that have passed since their formation, and through several line-up changes, personal losses and fifteen studio albums, experimental noise band XIU XIU (pronounced ‘shoo-shoo’) have become practised masters at stirring up dark, ugly feelings that would usually otherwise prefer to stay repressed. The bleak honesty and vulnerability of vocalist and founding member Jamie Stewart is a shaking hand holding a mirror for the listener to see themselves in, set amongst a world of chaotic percussion, synthesisers and twinkling bells. But in Eraserhead XIU XIU, we see the band at their most conceptual and experimental.
In 2016 came Plays the Music of Twin Peaks, XIU XIU’s tribute to 90’s show ‘Twin Peaks’ and their first tribute to legendary filmmaker David Lynch. The album was met with wide critical acclaim, regarded as their most accessible album to date.
But in the wake of Lynch’s untimely passing in 2025, XIU XIU sought to make tribute to his work once again, this time with his first film as the subject; ‘Eraserhead’ (1977). Over a small run of performances, XIU XIU examine and reanimate Lynch’s dreamscape exploration of sexuality, temptation, parenthood and suffering through their show Eraserhead XIU XIU.
For their first night in London, the prestigious Institute of Contemporary Arts was sold out, packed full – and dead silent. The lights went dark twenty seconds ago, and since that moment not a single sound has left the crowd. The seconds ticked by without an inkling of life from backstage, until eventually a door opened, and two-thirds of the current experimental noise band XIU XIU’s lineup - Angela Seo and Jamie Stewart - emerged, taking their place before a complex set up of pedals, modular synths, keyboards and various homemade instruments.
The crowd cheered. It was the only noise the audience made before the band left the stage again at the end of the night.
A steady whirr began, and the screen behind the band lit up. A black and white clip of wasps, writhing on top of one another, was shown first. Then sea foam bubbling and frothing on the shore, then a crumbling concrete building falling and crashing into the ground below. An ominous ringing set the tone, as more images flicked on the screen. The atmosphere was suffocating. It was hard not to feel claustrophobic.
The mood was heavy, and the images were grotesque, all varying degrees of disturbing and upsetting. There was a deafening screech, conjured by twisting dials and electrical interference. If the intention was to make the audience’s skin crawl, the artists were incredibly successful.
Soon, there were animals on the screens. Monkeys, and birds, and finally hens. The duo used various bird call instruments into the microphone, looping and distorting them until they were indistinguishable from the rest of the cacophony. Images of the bleeding hen at the dinner table from the ‘Eraserhead’ movie came to mind, and that same queasy effect was evoked.
The only live vocals from the show were also direct quotes from the movie; Seo repeatedly shouted “shut up” as baby gurgling noises were mixed and repeated on the soundboard, referencing the scene where the protagonist’s wife left him with their perpetually screaming, alien-like newborn. Later, Stewart screamed “okay Paul” repeatedly – another direct quote from the movie, where the protagonist’s head was turned into erasers in a twisted nightmare. This time, unsettling clown noises were played on a loop, along with circus horns and slide whistles blown into the microphone. The images on the screen were of abstract clown faces and fetish content now – women in bikinis, spilling milk over themselves. Cow costumes, suggestive poses, breasts and feet. Then suddenly... gargoyles. It was a dizzying array of ideas that felt like indoctrination. It was impossible to feel comfortable for even a second.
Eventually though, the noise simmered down to nothing but a heart beat. Stewart carefully rang a tiny bell into the microphone, then two, the light twinkling noise a soothing relief after the onslaught of darkness. Like the closing moments of a séance.
Finally, we heard the only sung vocals of the night – a cover of In Heaven, the only song featured in the original ‘Eraserhead’ movie. It consisted of only a few lines, but was a beautiful and touching final tribute.
Just as the film concluded with a final act of violence, though, so did the show. Stewart rised from the pedals and machinery, over to a black crate at the side of the stage. They furiously grabbed glass bottle after glass bottle from the crate, throwing them into a large bin and smashing with a large stick. The glass shattered, tiny shards flying through the air illuminated by the white screen behind them. When they were finished, they dusted their jacket off and made their way to the front of the stage, where the pair took their final bow.
As though the veil had been lifted, the audience cheered once more. The spell was broken.
XIU XIU are masters of the abstract, and so it was not surprising that they were able to conjure up such a level of uneasiness so quickly and easily. Like everything they do, there was a level of honesty in this performance that is difficult to truly explain. It felt like looking in someone’s diary, and wondering if you should call the police to come and get them. Like a stranger telling you their deepest, darkest secrets. Like stumbling onto a dark corner of the internet, late at night.
It was a fitting tribute to one of film’s greatest talents, and was just as sick and twisted as he was. For any Lynch fan who finds themselves fascinated with the macabre, XIU XIU do an excellent job of replicating the feelings that Lynch evoked almost fifty years ago, in a way that only they could do it. Past the nausea and uneasiness, it was impossible not to be in awe.
Words: Ellen Lovell
Photos: Atoosa Salamat
Comments