On entry to the venue a projected glitched video displaying the code if (!exists) { createReality(); }.” meaning – “if there is no reality, create one.”
The crowd fixated on the hypnotic imagery. To the side, behind a stack of twinkling red, green and blue lights, were modular synth player Jake Mehew and turntablist NikNak. Both their bodies swayed in a trance, eyes fixed to their instruments. Entangled and merged through wire, the pair worked symbiotically, two machines synced together as one organism, mirroring the hardware. It was the very definition of ‘hardware-centric’ performance: raw and tactile. Each twist of a knob, each patch cable connected, was a direct expression of creativity, of real-time interaction with their machines.
On the dancefloor – a low thumping kick set the crowd’s heartbeat to a rumbling chug. The collective pulse dictated the room’s movement. A citric, guttural bass fluctuated in the stomach, while haunting wails tickled the throat. Sharp, flickering hi-hats grazed the scalp, and aquatic melodies echoed from beneath, rebounding through the space like statically charged particles. Soft, airy pads brushed the face with a cold breeze, their ethereal touch lifting the crowd into a sense of weightlessness. The tension built and broke, a constant push and pull, like waves crashing against the shore, only to retreat and rise again.
I paid close attention, trying to distinguish which sounds were coming from whom, but the pair were seamlessly intertwined. Later during an interview, Mehew said, “ it’s special when it merges in a way where you can’t tell when one part ends. Us performers are in a state of flow and hopefully, so are the crowd.”
The crowd certainly was, and the next act, Nilehn, who co-founded the event with Mehew, carried that energy through to the early hours. Their driving rhythmic layers kept the pulse alive, deep and intricate. Outside, mention of the first act, Tyger Blue, floated around, with people buzzing about his live coding performance. I was gutted to have missed it.
Towards the end of the night, a small but dedicated group remained, marching to the relentless beat of Nilehn. Having met at The record shop Vinyl Whistle in Headingley, Nilehn and Mehew had created something with real potential, a force that seemed destined to grow and evolve.
Mehew shared the sentiment for starting the night: “I spend a lot of time travelling between Leeds and Berlin. Out there, there is a thriving community of people that do this. That scene doesn’t really exist in the UK in the same way, so I wanted to start something in Leeds that tried exploring that scene, community and culture.”
Since the closure of venues such as Wire and The Old Red Bus Station, underground events like Computer Club have become a vital force for the local Techno scene, offering a space for experimentation and community.
It wasn’t just a night of music; it was a demonstration of what happens when technology is used to its fullest potential, creating something fresh and powerful in a scene hungry for real innovation.
To keep updated with Computer Club and future events follow their instagram here.
Photography by Char Dodsworth.
