Synchrony Without a Setlist: Carbon Based Lifeforms at Belgrave Music Hall

When I arrive in the concert room at Belgrave Music Hall, the soundsystem feels big and bassy, the room dusky and intense. I’ve been here for a lot of different events – from the funky Boogaloo club night to a surreal Pavement album listening party – and I’m always impressed by how the venue adapts to each act. Tonight, things feel moody and exciting. The crowd is quickly getting denser as we prepare for a night of electronic music, plus a laser show – the first of its kind to be held in this venue. 

Opening the show is BUNKR, playing an upbeat, euphoric set with a sense of space-age propulsion. As he leans over the decks, the screen behind him follows a spaceman’s journey through a liminal, 3D-modelled landscape. It really reminds me of No Man’s Sky, a video game I used to play, which had you control a lost voyager as they explore the cosmos looking for answers. BUNKR’s set has the same sense of awe laced with trepidation. 

There are some beautiful noises in this set – I love the brain-scratching clicks and squeaking synths. It feels like a coherent journey, even when the pace changes drastically – taking us from slow, silky moments of rest, through pulsing piston-like rhythms, and even crashing jungle breakbeats which build to a euphoric crescendo at the end. On screen, the spaceman greets the sunrise as our journey comes to a conclusion.

The crowd is thoroughly warmed up, and very ready for the main event. Two white-haired, bearded men dressed in identical black appear on stage and the crowd roars. From Sweden, Johannes Hedberg and Daniel Vadestrid have been playing together for decades as Carbon Based Lifeforms. There’s already a gentle ease in their stage presence – it’s clear they’re in tune with each other and the crowd. Flowing like synchronised swimmers, they put their earplugs in, then raise their glass beer bottles to the fans. 

The set opens with ambient swells, accompanied by an ocean backdrop on the screen. I’m immediately struck by the lasers, which begin as sheets of striped light moving across the room, their bright colours swirled by the smoke machine. I’ve always felt that great visuals can add an extra dimension to electronic sets, and the lasers are a great enhancer. Bursting from the front of the room, they keep the focus on the artist, but create a sense of extension as their sliding colours envelop the crowd. 

A purposeful synth rhythm begins, building into a steady thrumming. Then a plucking, tricky bassline accompanied by a murmured, but recognisably human vocal. The lasers are still in heavy blue, and the screen continues to play images that could be from a B-roll in a nature documentary, but seem to take on a heavy significance as they’re lingered upon for longer. Zoomed-in footage of a pebbled beach makes every stone seem head-swimmingly massive. 

Hedberg and Vadestrid have great chemistry, and it’s warming to see them smile and clink their beers together after each song. The crowd’s response to these gestures is massive, too, cheering and yelling at the pair. It’s clear that we’re in a room of dedicated fans. 

The visuals onscreen remain in the English countryside, but the pace begins to pick up with a more intense bassline as they play ‘Derelicts’, accompanied by an Orb-esque overlapping vocal murmuring about ‘obsolete technology’. The room is getting smokier, almost club-like, as the lasers continue to circulate overhead. 

This feeling is furthered as they drop into ‘Mos 6581’, a very danceable track with a wriggly, distinct repeated synth rhythm. There are still bright leafy greens on screen, but this sunny day seems to be moving into the evening. As the beat gets heavier, an authoritative new synth provides a sparky top layer, sliding over the murky rhythms below. The set continues to ramp up in intensity, buzzing basslines spilling over the speakers. The lasers blaze through nostalgic blues, purples and greens, like the flashing lights of a nineties arcade. 

For their last song, Carbon Based Lifeforms play ‘Rymden3000’ – a rushing, euphoric anthem, and one of their few tracks with distinct vocals. They’re both mouthing along with the repeated mantra, ‘Don’t stay blue… We’re all behind you.’ I notice with a mixture of delight and alarm that a woman next to me has tears streaming down her face. Then Carbon Based Lifeforms leave the stage. I’m not expecting them to come back for an encore, but they do, playing a mellow track with a delicious woodblock rhythm. It’s not as big a track as the last, but the crowd are still riding an elated high.

I catch Hedberg and Vadestrid after the show, and my first thought is to compliment them on their onstage chemistry. I’m quickly shocked by just how in-sync they have to be, as they tell me, ‘We play without a setlist. So if we fuck it up, it’s like, agh!’ But it’s a great way to get their set to move with the crowd and respond to their energy – and a way to stay on their toes. They inform me that they only have a few seconds between tracks to decide on the next song, taking out their earplugs to quickly discuss with each other. It’s a daring element of risk, but one that clearly works, producing a light-footed and exciting show in front of a buzzing, adoring crowd.