In a festival dedicated to challenging and unusual artists, some of the most singular musicians were gathered together for a programme on the shortest night of the year (22 June).
Entering the venue, audiences found a long line of female musicians playing their guitars with nail polish bottles.
Perhaps the hardest work to access on the night, Marina Rosenfeld's The Sheer Frost Orchestra had a lot of moving elements but they never seemed to coalesce into a whole, bouncing off each other and co-existing rather than interacting.
Far more cohesive was Joe Talia & Eiko Ishibashi's set, a woozy world of tape hiss and gauzy synths cut through with a flute that sounded like a foghorn. In comparison to the at times icy synths, the flute sounded remarkably warm and though it began with a trickle, this was the sound of water flowing through time rather than space.
The best way to appreciate it was to let go of the details and let the totality wash over you, trickling slowly then crackling and hissing as it changed state, freezing and evaporating before crashing down with thundering bass. And like the sound of water there was something reassuringly natural yet inhuman about the set.
Three performance spaces set about the sides of the room meant quick changeovers between acts, and as the night progressed the bass became increasingly prominent.
Given that progression, it was no surprise that Stephen O'Malley was chosen to conclude proceedings. Surrounded by a Stonehenge of speaker stacks, he tapped into an ancient sound that manifested as a slow, tectonic rumbling with a deep pulse.
Epic in scope, this was the sound of continents colliding and as such it required patience to discern the patterns differentiating music from mere noise. Rather than spectacular explosions, there was a deep, ongoing rumble with occasional quakes and aftershocks.
And though the sound level was unsurprisingly high and the vibrations could be physically felt, it didn't so much punish the audience with brutality as pummel them with unremitting force. When he finished, one member of the audience said: "I think that's the loudest thing I've ever heard." But it was far from a complaint.
In a festival with a lot of dazzling visual art and spectacular selfie bait, this was a performance that required a little more investment. But while it may have been cold, it was far from depressing and a fitting ode to the longest night of the year.
