I finally ventured out into this strange new town of Bullingdon-on-Thames.  To be fair to that repugnant oaf who now runs this place, he has done a bang-up job with the weather; nine straight days of Mediterranean conditions have left the inhabitants pink-hued and with a peculiar predilection for drinking Pimms on the pavement amongst traffic pong.   

Probably not the atmospheric conditions that Touch would have expected for this, the second year of their Atmospheres festival at the lovely Museum of Garden History, a deconsecrated church perched betwixt Lambeth Bridge and the Archbishop of Canterbury’s pad (he didn’t attend, in case you are wondering).  Amongst their collection of rusty-looking garden implements, I happened upon a gnomic interpretation of another of this country’s least-revered politicians.

And then on to the more serious business.  First tonight were Matt Davies and Simon Whetham, dappled by the twilight dancing through the stained glass behind them.  The sounds they were marshalling were initially light and airy, growing stronger and darker as the light faded behind them.  They taunted the museum’s dry garden with the sound of trickling water, and meandered to a finale in which they teased that gnome with the sounds of war, all fizzing rocket launches and muffled explosions.  It was enough to make you want to stay indoors.

Except if I had done that, I would have missed one of the event’s thematic highlights – a spot of tree-listening via Alex Metcalf’s installation in the garden out back.  Popping on one of the sets of headphones dangling from a tree in the garden was an engrossing experience: trees are livelier than you would think.  Hissing, crackling and popping as the tree dragged moisture up from the ground, it sounded like Autechre would sound if the only instrument they had available to them was a bowl of Rice Krispies.

Back indoors, Charles Matthews was performing a selection of piano pieces by Takemitsu, Ligeti and Feldman.  Delicately-played clusters of notes fluttered in the air, enigmatic and unresolved, mingling most appropriately with a ghostly wind emanating from the speakers.  He was then joined by Christian Fennesz for an improvised duet which didn’t quite live up to its billing.  It began well enough, with Fennesz meshing flickers of guitar and background hum into the long gaps between Matthews’ clipped phrases, like waves washing over grains of sand (inevitably reminding me a little of that lovely Chris Abrahams/Mike Cooper record).  The set rose to a huge, tantalisingly brief eruption of processed guitar, and then Matthews just kept right on going, picking up pace and playing like Cecil Taylor at his most lyrical, a torrent of melodic ideas tumbling from his fingers.  Fennesz stood back, initially just trying to think what he could contribute, and then more in the manner of Miles waiting for ‘Trane to finish a solo, and after several awkward minutes he wandered off stage, leaving us to marvel at Matthews’ extraordinary improvisatory powers.

Perhaps through some sense of frustration, when Fennesz returned to play his solo set, he was in ferocious form.  It started with some big rumbly guitar chords and throaty drones and just built from there, adding layers of reverb and distortion, until the sound eventually filled this vast space.  At one point I felt like I was inside a jet engine.  Later, I was to feel like I was on a runaway train, breaks squealing redundantly.  Towards the end, as this colossal rush of sound was at its densest (pure noise, the likes of Robedoor would have approved) he slashed it all back to leave – Jeck-like – a ghostly choral melody hanging in the air amongst some supercharged static.  He repeated this trick for an encore, leaving this already sun-dazed crowd stunned and dizzy; I had quite forgotten where I was and when I was.

As I waited for the tube back up North, I had an unwelcome reminder of both: a member of station staff wearily pasting up some “alcohol is banned on the tube (although there won’t be anyone around to enforce it so do what you like, I suppose)” posters.  Atmospheric change is afoot in this town; best batten down the hatches.

The Atmospheres 2 festival continues with performances by Philip Jeck and Kode 9, as well as a symposium on hauntology.   It’ll have a hard job topping that Fennesz performance, mind.