Live review: The Martini Henry Rifles, Waterside, Carmarthen, Friday, May 13th

"I am inclined to think that the first experience of the Martini-Henrys will be such a surprise..." - Lord Chelmsford, November 23rd, 1878.

Originally from Pembrokeshire, but now based in Cardiff, and just back from the prestigious SXSW festival in Austin, Texas, The Martini Henry Rifles are critically acclaimed noisescape artists in the punk tradition.

Sonic adventurers, they challenge themselves, challenge the audience and even challenge our preconceived ideas of gig performance - the stage lighting was not used and they performed in semi darkness.

They are, in a way, like a very extreme, mad and totally out of control Dogzuki, but without the pop tunes, (and indeed MHR bassist Fudge was in Utopia with Ger of Dogzuki).

Their short stabs of songs (often barely a minute in length) came hurtling along at top speed like slivers of glass being fired into your brain; the sound patterns making a terrifying, but not entirely unpleasant, aural assault in an electrocutingly short set (barely 30 minutes).

However the brevity of songs and set was probably essential to surviving the MHR experience with any faculties left intact.

Considering that there are just three of them, the racket that The Martini Henry Rifles make is indeed mighty.

The two guitars, bass and vocals, together with drum samples, built up leftfield layers of instrumentation and abrasive textures, as wave upon wave of confrontational screeching shards came at you in a headsplitting sonic barrage, with no discernible melody or tune.

And, as with the Martini Henry (England's first service rifle circa 1871), after which the band are named, the recoil was punishing.

The appropriate finale, for this is a band for whom direct engagement with the audience is essential, came when mic and guitar were handed over to two random girls to do with what they pleased.

And just when you felt your head would explode, it stopped.

But danger in music is a wonderful thing and in the end we became hypnotised, both by the volume and the audacity of The Martini Henry Rifles, for although it hurt like hell, their sound was utterly beguiling and addictive.

They are also easy on the eye, which shouldn't matter but of course does. So would I go and see them again? You bet.

Moll