Boards Of Canada Inferno Session Experience

I missed the first ticket release. When I saw the email that more tickets were being released, I knew I had to be prepared. Friday rolled around, and I was ready at 09:59. At 10:00, I immediately entered the unlock code and was able to snag a ticket. I added a t-shirt, completed the order, and couldn’t have been more excited. I was stoked all week waiting for the following Friday, 22 May.

I took a few hours of holiday from work to leave early and attend the 15:30 session. I wanted to make sure I’d be early in case there was a big line, but showing up to Stone Nest at around 14:15, there were only three or so people who’d arrived before me! It was a hot day, and I watched the busy intersection of Shaftesbury Avenue and Charing Cross Road while waiting for more people to arrive. Once they did, I struck up a conversation with a couple of fellow fans, both of whom shared my excitement. Around 15:10 or so, they started letting people in, and Freddie—another fan whom I had been talking with while waiting in line—and I went in.

We were immediately given an envelope stamped with a familiar hexagonal logo (as well as a programme featuring some BoC-esque art), and then we were asked, “Upstairs or downstairs?” I didn’t have any time to think, so I just said “downstairs”, and I was then given a red wristband and pointed towards the stairs down to the bar/waiting area. There, I collected my t-shirt and also purchased a pre-order of the limited edition red Inferno cassette, which I had heard rumours of in the hours before the session. I changed into the t-shirt and then waited in anticipation with Freddie until 15:30, when a lady over the PA said we could finally enter the main hall.

A low-light, eye-level view of an audience gathered in an arched venue. People are seated in a large circle of chairs around a dark, unlit hexagonal structure with a red cover in the center of the room. A few people are standing near the center, and the overall atmosphere is dark and moody.

Upon entering the huge space, I quickly scanned for a good place to sit, and we rushed over to two free chairs right at the front. There was a red, hexagon-shaped, altar-looking thing in the centre of the room, positioned directly below the octagonal dome. A creepy, BoC-style ambience looped in the background. At 16:01, the room went dark, I shut myself up mid-sentence, and a bright blue hexagon beamed out of the altar-thingy onto the dome. Everyone watched—this was the moment we had been dreaming of for years. The Boards of Canada VHS-y logo appeared, the background turned to flames, then the text changed to Inferno, and the first track, Introit, started playing.

A low-angle shot looking directly up at a classic domed ceiling with architectural ribbing. The dome is illuminated by a large, bright teal light projection shaped like a group of seven hexagons. The dark silhouette of a balcony with seated attendees is visible at the bottom of the frame.

I felt such excitement listening to the first two (already released) tracks. Positioned right in front of the speakers, the bass was strong but not too loud—the acoustics were superb, which is no surprise given BoC’s perfectionism surrounding their music. Just before the first unreleased track, Hydrogen Helium Lithium Leviathan, began, I was holding my breath in anticipation and was almost startled by the wobbly-pitched, dreary synth chords that it began with. It immediately set the tone for the first half of the album, and I began to understand the name Inferno as I looked up at the flames projected above. The rest of the track continued the dark atmosphere with punchy drums and a monotone, stabby synth, featuring a mesmerising melody in the bridge section. It ends on a lighter note.

I looked into the programme to see the title of the next track right as it began: Age of Capricorn. This track was a cathartic release compared to the previous one, featuring many repeating vocal samples and soft, hopeful bass notes. It was quite unlike any of their other tracks, but that just made it even more awesome.

The next track, Father and Son, had vocal samples reminiscent of Telephasic Workshop, but less repetitive—a mix of distinguishable sentences and garbled, bitcrushed voices. It was an entrancing experience, and I spent a lot of the track just processing how different it was. It ended abruptly, and at this point, I stopped following the programme closely and became unsure of the exact titles.

I remember that during Naraka, I was deeply focused on the rhythm, trying to replicate it by tapping my fingers and repeatedly mistiming the beats. What stuck out to me on it was the intricacy of the details in the sound design, emphasised by the great acoustics. It reminded me of the reason why we had to wait so long between albums.

Memory Death was extremely moving; the beeping sound echoing a heartbeat monitor with a fluttery synth in the background, the shimmery vocal sounds playing. Sitting right in front of the speaker, it was a wall of beautiful, powerful, breathing, and moving sound. This was similarly how I felt during Into The Magic Land. In the next tracks, I was so entranced by the music that I don’t remember many of my thoughts at all, but I know I was thoroughly enjoying them.

When Deep Time came on, Freddie and I instantly recognised it as the Tape 05 track released in April and gave each other a nudge. It was awesome to know that it was a track on the album before anyone else knew, like secret knowledge. The track itself is also just a masterpiece, and I’ve said it several times already, but the acoustics amplified the emotions that it brings even more, especially the hopeful change in tone that comes in halfway through.

The most memorable part of the rest of the album for me was most certainly You Retreat In Time And Space, which starts slowly and mellow but with a positive tone. I became curious as to where it was going; it was very dreamy and serene. The visuals finally changed into a lovely blue colour, playing home videos of some children, as the music took an unexpected major turn with a beautiful and extremely memorable synth melody, along with more acoustic-sounding electric guitars and bass guitars. The thought of listening to The Campfire Headphase for the first time flashed in my mind, and I once again felt a surge of happiness realising I was able to experience listening to another album for the first time again—something that I wasn’t sure I would ever be able to do after waiting for 6 years since I first started listening to them.

As soon as it ended, I couldn’t wait to listen to it again. It was hauntingly beautiful. The final track, I Saw Through Platonia, came on, with a literal heartbeat sound playing and mixing major and minor chords. Combined with the fact that I knew this was the last song judging from the time, it was a heart-wrenching journey of what felt to me like music to bleed out to, slowly losing consciousness, returning back to reality, and snapping out of this musical reverie.

There was a brief silence after the session ended, followed by long, continuous applause and the lights coming back on. There was nothing special at the end, other than revelling with fellow fans about the experience we just had and sharing our first impressions. I took a selfie with the hexagon in the middle, said goodbye to Freddie, snuck upstairs for a picture, and then left, still euphoric from the experience and processing my thoughts.

An overhead view of a dimly lit event space characterized by arched alcoves. Rows of red chairs are arranged in a large circle surrounding a central, hexagonal structure that is glowing with red light. Several people are standing and conversing in the center of the circle around the structure.

A selfie of a person with dark hair and round glasses. They are standing in a dark room right in front of a hexagonal structure emitting a bright, glowing red light. Other attendees are visible standing in the blurred background.

When I got home, I opened the envelope and checked out my goodies. Here they are, all together:

A collection of Boards of Canada merchandise laid out on a gray carpet. The items include a folded poster featuring kaleidoscopic artwork and the band's logo, a tall red pamphlet with an embossed golden silhouette of a family, a red rectangular patch with the same family silhouette, a small hexagonal sticker, a yellow rectangular sticker with the band's logo, and a small light blue hexagonal pin.