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Swans Bring a Collision of Beauty and Noise to Brooklyn Steel

A feeling of finality ran through the packed room at the Williamsburg venue.

Swans
Photo: Marco Porsia/Young God Records

“That’s it for this version of Swans on this continent.” The statement, posted to Swans’s official Instagram, set the tone for their final North American show of the year at Brooklyn Steel, where a feeling of finality ran through the packed room. For a band of outsiders like Swans, it was remarkable that the show also felt so communal, the intensity of the performance drawing everyone into a shared, almost ritualistic experience.

The lack of elbow room in the nearly sold-out 1,800-capacity venue in the heart of Williamsburg only heightened the claustrophobia. The few who dared to pull out their phones—to check the time or snap a picture of the stark white-haired, sorcerer-looking Michael Gira—did so with the guilty look of someone caught in the act of committing a cardinal sin.

Listening to a Swans album—especially recent releases like 2019’s Leaving Meaning and 2023’s The Beggar—is already a challenging but rewarding sensory experience, one that asks a bit more of the listener than most conventional mainstream music, but witnessing their music live is something else entirely. Guitar riffs and drum breakdowns swell into assaultive waves of sound, the kind that make the hair on your skin stand upright.

For two hours, the band moved seamlessly between songs from their recent Birthing and the more punishing ones from their 2010s run of albums. The booming brass and piercing electronics of “A Little God in My Hands,” from 2014’s To Be Kind, echoed the same energy that opens Birthing’s “The Merge,” though in a more compositionally tight and less freewheeling form. Slow, deliberate builds tightened with tension until they burst in beautiful chaos.

When the final note of “New Sentient Being,” a brand new song, dissolved into silence, there was no overly sentimental farewell—just a few terse thanks and the slow exhale of a room held in suspension for nearly two hours. For a group defined by constant mutation, the show felt less like an ending than a temporary shedding: one final rupture before Swans inevitably reassemble into something new, perhaps as punishing, but hopefully just as electrifying.

Paul Attard

Paul Attard enjoys writing about experimental cinema, rap/pop music, games, and anything else that tickles their fancy. Their writing has also appeared in MUBI Notebook.

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