One of the last remaining truly independent labels, Mute Records operates with a delicate balance of commercialism and idealism. On one hand it sells millions with Depeche Mode and Moby; on the other it funds determinedly avant-garde, uncommercial prospects such as Appliance. Operating somewhere in the darker nether regions between post-rock and Krautrock, Appliance could probably fit its entire UK audience into one of Moby's smaller gigs without having to worry about a queue at the bar.
Mute's founder, Daniel Miller, started off with electronic oddballs the Normal and has a long history of championing the perverse. Appliance are a trio; they play in semi-darkness, and have fairy lights above their heads. They barely move, and look as serious as showroom dummies. The bald announcement "The band you are about to see are Appliance" is frontman James Brooks's solitary gesture towards showbiz. A scrawny youth who could be straight from the set of Alan Clarke's Scum, he subsequently nods and his pals get their heads down and lock into a metronomic electronic rhythm that seems to last for days.
With analogue synths and drum machines whirring away, the first three songs sound like OMD and Ultravox forced through a wind tunnel and robbed of their tunes at gunpoint. It's a cold, motorik beat: dark, omnipresent and, frankly, marooned in 1980. However, when Brooks straps on a guitar the music suddenly lifts.
Appliance's previous two albums - 2000's Six Modular Pieces and the new Imperial Metric - are full of statuesque but beautiful music, but their more delicate melodies are presumably impossible to replicate live. Instead, the band concentrate on repetition.
Clearly inspired by the likes of Neu! and Can, they occasionally reach a crafted intensity that borders on the mesmeric. The band are from Exeter, which isn't exactly Düsseldorf, but their best music reeks of industrial valleys, overhead wires and pylons, and would almost certainly work better outdoors. Occasionally Brooks varies the onslaught of instrumentals with a nasal vocal and sinister imagery - all speeding bullets, frozen glass and clandestine meetings in European countries.
The Spacemen 3-like A Gentle Cycle Revolution closes proceedings, and Brooks exits with an unlikely wave to warm applause from the crowd. While they've been on stage, Moby will have sold a few more thousand albums, but in their subterranean parallel universe, Appliance have at least earned themselves a few more fans.
At the Studio, Hartlepool (01429 424440), on Sunday, and the Cavern, Exeter (01392 495370), on Monday.
