Gig review: Sanam + Manchild at The Attic, Leeds

Although a considerable chunk of the material aired during tonight’s 70-minute performance is rooted in traditional sources, and the droning melodies of Farah Kaddour‘s buzuq (a traditional Levantine string instrument) feature prominently in the crystal-clear mix, it’s hard to think of a band who sound less stereotypically ‘folk’ than Sanam.

With a set drawn largely from this year’s second album Sametou Sawtan, the Lebanese six-piece confront, disturb and upend their ancient points of reference to craft an unmistakably contemporary, often insistently intense blast of cutting-edge experimental music, centred on relentlessly pounding forward-momentum and jagged post-punk angularity, but also moments of reflective calm and uninterrupted, majestic beauty.

If Sanam in full flight evoke images of figures scurrying frantically on crowded nocturnal city streets, Leeds trio Manchild – who open tonight’s proceedings with a seriously impressive six-song set of caressing grooves for alto saxophone, analogue synths and drums – aim for the cosmic mist beneath the stars. The trio are at their least compelling (still impressive, however) when engaging in the tricky constructs of more overtly jazz-influenced musical exchanges. The more contemplative selections (including a positively celestial workout named after city centre entertainment complex The Light), however, particularly drip with deeply atmospheric, melodically rich potential.

Next to this, Sanam’s white-knuckled intensity and dynamic build-ups seem startlingly full-on, in a good way: powerfully expressive vocalist and visual focal point Sandy Chamoun jokes about how unintelligible the band’s Arabic lyrics must be for the vast majority of tonight’s sizable audience, but you don’t really need the translated lyric sheet that comes with the new album to grasp the band’s thematical roots in the turbulence and instability (and ensuing protest movements) in Lebanon in the last few years.

The single-chord hypnosis of The Bell showcases Sanam’s prowess with the unstoppable forward-momentum of motoric rhythms, with drummer Pascal Semerdjian’s pulverising pounding suggesting that the venue may well be on the verge of a levitation event.

The new album’s material is more complex and idiosyncratic, demonstrating the band’s newfound confidence in twisting traditions and inspirations to compelling new shapes.

Tunes often emerge gradually from murky eeriness and Chamoun’s spirited recitals, gradually picking up speed and power as they progress, with guitarist/synth operator Anthony Sahyoun often either feeding his guitar through distorting effects or playing it with a bow, Post-Rock style.

The vocoder-tinged Habibon (one of the new album’s highlights) could almost pass as atmospheric large canvas 1980s soft rock, but the fiercely percussive tribal bounce that follows sets the course back to more alluringly strange terrains.

It's a compelling performance that sidesteps every conceivable ‘world music’ or psych-rock cliché and convention: if modernising traditional sources usually means playing more or less the same thing, only plugged in, Sanam presents a much bolder, darker and wilder vision of blending the enduringly ancient with the uncompromisingly modern.

The queue at the merch stall at the end suggests the mission is succeeding well.