12.11.2024 by Remo Bitzi

“7 Key Performances at LUFF 2024”

In October 2024, the Lausanne festival LUFF showcased an exciting lineup of performances from artists including Lord Spikeheart, Suzan Peeters, bela [see zweikommasieben #28], Yvonne LeBien, ZULI [see zweikommasieben #14], Mosquito Farm, Ieva Balode and Biliana Voutchkova, Billy Bao, Andrea Pensado, Luka Aron, and Js Donny, among others. Remo Bitzi set himself an ambitious challenge: selecting seven standout performances from this year’s edition.

On my way to Lausanne, an aphorism kept popping up in my head. It’s printed on an EP series by Terre Thaemlitz [see zweikommasieben #7 and zweikommasieben #16], released to celebrate Tranquilizer’s 30th anniversary, and it’s really more of an instruction: “Protect The Unusual And Minor – Do Not Upload.”

Without the second part, it could easily serve as a guiding principle for the Lausanne-based festival LUFF. The two-hour train ride from my hometown of Lucerne gave me time to reminisce about past editions of the festival. I recalled my first visit around 2010 and remembered seeing The Haxan Cloak [see zweikommasieben #9] perform at the Casino de Montbenon early in his career in 2013, followed by Danglish [see zweikommasieben #11] the next year (I interviewed both artists for early issues of zweikommasieben). Toward the end of the decade, the festival introduced me to the Nihilist Spasm Band [see zweikommasieben #21]—an outfit I completely fell in love with. And just after the pandemic, LUFF reminded me why I would still get off the couch every now and then.

Reflecting on my various LUFF experiences, I was struck by the immense care the festival team puts into presenting the unconventional, the weird, the offbeat—the unusual and minor.

Anyway, I intended to use the train ride to figure out an angle for this year’s review. After writing many tributes to the festival (e.g. this one here), I wanted to try something different—perhaps a “7 Key Performances at LUFF 2024” listicle? 

The vibe at LUFF. Image: Malik Beytrison

 

As the festival unfolded, it quickly became clear that creating such a list was both challenging and, in a way, futile. Every performance felt essential—not only to this year’s festival but to something larger. Still, I stubbornly decided to go ahead with my original plan. So here it is: “7 Key Performances at LUFF 2024.”

To give a glimpse into how this list came about: these are simply the first seven performances I attended—and, to be fair, the only reason the others didn’t make the list is because it was already complete…

  1. “It took a long time for it to open its leaves” is the collaborative project by Ieva Balode from Latvia and Bulgari-born Biliana Voutchkova, which opened the festival at the Paderewski, a glamorous screening room in the Casino de Montbenon. It served as a kind of appetizer for Fotogenico, a dramatic yet humorous and very entertaining feature film that follows a peculiar father tracking the life of his deceased daughter, who turns out to have been the frontwoman of a mysterious electro-clash band he gets obsessed with—and a user of hard drugs. (The movie is highly recommended!) “It took a long time for it to open its leaves” featured Balode on projection devices that not only generated the visual layer of the piece, but also a range of interesting noises that complemented a complex soundscape including Voutchkova on violin as well as field and studio recordings. The two artists produced an odd, wonderful, and completely original “A/V show.” Bizarre and poetic—the perfect gateway into LUFF’s unique universe.

    Opening LUFF 2024: Biliana Voutchkova with “It took a long time for it to open its leaves”. Image: Jennifer Cerchia
  2. After Fotogenico, the festivities moved to Salle de Fêtes in the basement, where Andrea Pensado took the stage with a set that was… characteristically odd. The Argentine artist, seated with her laptop and a few controllers, proceeded to scream at—and with—her computer, seeming both enraged at the device and entertained by what resulted. Pensado’s manipulation of her voice, punctuated with found footage (including a grand ballroom song towards the end), generated harsh noises that firmly reassured the audience: yes, this is LUFF.

    Andrea Pensado screaming at LUFF 2024. Image: Zoe Geslin
  3. Next up was Lord Spikeheart from the Nairobi noise duo Duma, one of the few familiar names on the lineup. (I’ve said this before, but it bears repeating: It’s wonderful to have a festival that excites by introducing so many unfamiliar acts and, at the same time, doesn’t miss to present some household names!) Spikeheart’s set was an intense fusion of trap, noise, doom, and more, it was well choreographed and it proved that Spikeheart is a true pro who knows exactly what he’s doing on stage.

    A total pro on stage: Lord Spikeheart. Image: Malik Beytrison
  4. Luka Aron closed out this wonderfully strange opening night (mine at least) with a precise and captivating set. The Sweden-based artist dissected the timbres of analog instruments like bass clarinet, contrabass, euphonium, foghorn organ, harpsichord, shō, and trumpet. Each piece (they’re more like studies than tracks) started with a clear, crisp recording that Aron then elongated and amplified until it filled the room. As the sounds grew louder and more intense, culminating in something resembling “power early music,” the experience became overwhelming in the best way. I left afterwards, unfortunately missing Radon and In Spite of Dreams.

    Hyper precise: Luka Aron at LUFF 2024. Photo: Malik Beytrison
  5. On Thursday, I caught part of Js Donny’s performance in the L’OFF tent, having missed the start while watching SCALA!!!, a nostalgic homage to an iconic London cinema. From what I did see, Donny’s gig was pure magic. Each song began like an intriguing singer-songwriter piece you might listen to while driving down a scenic country road. Yet each time Donny reached a crossroads, they’d take a detour, leading the audience into unexpected terrain and squeezing alien sounds from guitar and voice before eventually finding their way back to that country road, leaving us slightly dazed.

    Taking detours in the L’OFF tent. Image: Janine Agbayani
  6. Speaking of squeezing: Brussels-based musician Suzan Peeters opened the Salle de Fêtes that night with a truly spectacular set. She sat on stage with her accordion, producing long, resonant notes filled with meaning. Soon, Peeters began to shake, joggle, push, pull, and squeeze the instrument with growing intensity. Confused but fascinated by how she produced her sounds, I realized she was using a vibration plate—the kind you’d find at a gym—to create some form of analog granular synthesis. Mind-blowing.

    Shaking, joggling, pushing, pulling, and squeezing her accordion: Suzan Peeters. Image: Malik Beytrison
  7. Next, Maddie Banwell and Grace Black, aka Mosquito Farm, took the stage—or rather, the floor. In the center of the audience space, the two London-based artists arranged a park of everyday bits and bobs including simple mechanical devices, which they activated gradually, reminiscent of Rie Nakajima or Ryoko Akama. But unlike those references, Mosquito Farm’s set sounded more punk and felt even more playful. At one point, with their machine park partially self-operating, one artist played a stretched rubber band like a bass guitar while the other worked a wire spool with a propeller, creating what sounded like the best guitar solo you’d hear all your life. They visibly enjoyed themselves, exchanging glances and smirks, and, if something seemed particularly intriguing—like the rubber bass and wire spool guitar intermezzo—, they’d switch roles to share the experience, which felt totally refreshing.

    Playful and punk: Mosquito Farm: Image: Malik Beytrison

Mosquito Farm’s set was followed by bela, Shredded Nerves, and DJ Daiki, who each delivered intense, memorable performances. The next day was equally thrilling, full of performances worth discussing. But, alas, time’s up.

One last thought—another aphorism that keeps echoing, this one from John T. Gast’s 5 Gate Temple and originally intended, I believe, as a promo claim for a radio show: “Shout to […] all the artists persisting in this tired world.” The world did feel particularly tired in October 2024. Experiencing the above-mentioned performances at LUFF—and all the others—was accordingly enlightening. In that spirit: shout to the artists playing LUFF 2024 and, above all, to the festival itself, which once again did an incredible job.