Yeah, I suck. Been sitting on this review for months. And Bestival. And two gigs I went to recently and totally forgot to write about. I'd say I'll change, write more, be good...but...you know.
Wireless, 3rd July 2011, London Hyde Park
The year is 1995 and Essex as we know it is a different place. Well, it was still a land of high tans and low brain cells, but at least the loudest of these specimens didn’t have their own ITV franchise. Anyway, the landscape of Colchester was certainly different. I remember being all of 10 years old and visiting Our Price on Culver Square (which shut down and became Woolworths which shut now and is now New Look or something). They had listening booths dotted around the store, and I knew which one I was after. There was this band I’d seen on Top Of The Pops and probably Live & Kicking too. Being that age music was a relatively new thing to me. My earliest exposure would have been getting Kylie’s first album (THE HAT!!!!) on cassette (this was 1988 remember) and clearly I never looked back. I found an oversized pair of headphones and began listening. “This is really good” I said to my Mum who was waiting nearby.
“Joseph, you’re shouting”.
I can’t remember if I bought the album then or waited until a birthday, but I do remember getting Different Class and being instantly terrified and intimidated by it. Titles like Live Bed Show and Underwear sounded far too dirty to listen to. There’s also a recollection in the back of my mind of one dinner time being asked if I knew exactly what “E’s and Wizz” were.
So I only listened to four of its tracks. For around three years this era defining record stayed unplayed. Reaching that awkward 13 I finally found it in me to put it on and stay the distance. My God. Listening to it today, it’s still a remarkable album. In amongst the fog of Britpop (which was 80%-90% Boys With Guitars) came a band who thought rather that fought. And it changed my life all over again, beginning this love affair with music that to this day makes me part with more money than other interests or distractions.
I first saw Pulp at my first ever festival. For a 15th birthday present, Dad took me to a day at Reading in 2000. Throughout the day was an indie smorgasboard, with the delights of The Delgados, Gorky’s Zygotic Mynci, Idlewild, Elastica, Super Furry Animals, Gomez and Beck. Pulp hadn’t played a gig in 18 months, and this was the big comeback. It was like falling love all over again.
Then came shows in Brixton late 2001 and Thetford Forest 2002, both at the end of a string of gigs that carried the air of it being the last time. And then it was. No more Pulp. Jarvis would go through phases of “no fucking way”, but I always knew they’d be back.
If there’s one thing about Jarvis Cocker, it’s that he never lets you down.
But let’s talk about the other bands first. Metronomy were the first one I paid any attention to, but as there is a review of a full gig by them elsewhere, let’s just say they made the most of an early afternoon 30 minute slot. The Horrors showed their continuing maturity with a strong collection of new songs. The Hives surprised everyone with their continued existence. They now wear hats!! Saying that, I was surrounded by old uni friends so the likes of Hate To Say I Told You So brought back memories of 99p pints consumed in the basement of our sports centre. TV On The Radio put on a spectacular show in the sunset, sounding as pounding and urgent as ever. Foals is where the alcohol starts to fuzz the memory slightly, and we left early to get a good main stage spot, but they played a typically tight set, even if the instrumentals all tended to blur into one.
It’s hard to write anything about Pulp’s set other than “utter perfection”. Opening with Do You Remember The First Time with much exploding of ticker tape cannons, Jarvis shook his ever-skinny frame to a set of nostalgia and joy. Consisting of pretty much all of Different Class with a few other delights thrown in, we knew all the words, we sung every note. As this was the first show announced alongside their reunion, Jarvis praised us for being “early adopters” and regaled us with various London tales. This was the most relaxed performance I’d seen from Pulp, playing with Russell Senior for the first time since 1996. Whatever had caused them to call it a day was forgotten. Whether they do anything after this doesn’t matter, this show was an example of how to get a reunion right.
Common People closed the day, and could have been the last song I ever heard. It summed up the whole show: still clever, still loud, still shaking, just with more explosions.
Don’t be a Stranger
Showing posts with label Metronomy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Metronomy. Show all posts
Monday, 17 October 2011
Sunday, 15 August 2010
Dreamy Days
The Big Chill, Eastnor Castle, 6-8th August 2010
Let’s be honest, going to festivals can be an effort. It’s all drink this, take that, don’t sleep, hardly eat, repeat for a week.
At the Big Chill this year I suffered some of the worst Morning Afters I’ve ever had. So it’s probably a credit to this festival (and the folk I went with) that I so easily got over them and had some of the best field-based antics of my life.
The site was hilly and picturesque. Getting up and down the massive slope on the way to the arena was a chore but the views at the top (and the potential to run into the giant inflatable balls while drunk) made up for it. There was a lot more teenagers in the crowd than I expected. In fact we were all pounced on by kids at the gate who didn’t realise they needed an adult to actually get them in to the festival. “You look like me, you could be my Dad!” Little shit. That was balanced out by the amount of literal children there with families. The main stage in the afternoon was full of kids chasing bubbles, running in circles and generally having a boogie to the music. During Thom Yorke one guy in front of me had his child on his shoulders for the whole set, and the kid was loving it. Fair play.
After spending all of Thursday drinking (honestly don’t remember what else we did) our festival started properly on Friday afternoon with Ty. It was the perfect choice. A smooth mix of soul and hip hop, with some sensational backing singers who treated us to an enviously skilled dance-off. It got us in a right good mood for the rest of the day. Plus we got to laugh about Tim Westwood.
The predicted weather for the weekend wasn’t much to smile about, however in the end it was nowhere near the drenching that was forecast. Whatever showers we had were brief and mostly happened when we were back in Tent Town. However sometimes it did impose a bit too much on our enjoyment of the music. Hope Sandoval & The Warm Inventions arrived onstage late, to a doom-ridden sky and a moderate gale. They had the good manners to open with my favourite song, Around My Smile, and Hope Sandoval’s voice has lost none of its honey-dipped husky seductiveness. However this was music for scorching afternoons or watching the sun rise on a beach. A windy field in Herefordshire wasn’t cutting it, so we made our excuses and left. A shame, as she rarely tours, but the weather wasn’t doing it justice.
Due our collective faffing we missed most of Explosions In The Sky, catching only the last couple of songs, when really a whole set needs to be taken in to appreciate it properly. What we did see sounded suitably noisy and chaotic.
With a new Radiohead album apparently imminent, a solo show from Thom Yorke is Christmas, Birthdays and new Doctor Who wrapped into one. Alas he didn’t have his superband that he toured the States with, choosing instead to play about a dozen instruments all by himself. Coming on stage looking like a ginger Worzel Gummidge, he opened with the obvious Eraser, with a few more tracks from his solo album following that. It was Radiohead songs that dominated the set, including Planet Telex, Everything In Its Right Place, I Might Be Wrong, The Gloaming, Reckoner and an acoustic Airbag at the end. There was apparently a brand new song too, but I can’t for the life of me remember what it sounded like. He was clearly loving every second, knowing a creepy glace to the crowd from his sideways-facing piano would provoke a massive reaction from the assembled crowd. I’ve been treated to a few Radiohead performances over the last few years, and it’s always difficult to be objective with a band you love so much. Yes, it’s gloomy, but there’s beauty in the gloom. Everyone arm in arm singing along to Airbag at the end was a moment.
Massive Attack headlined that night and I really wasn’t paying attention. Their new record is what is commonly referred to as “a return to form”, but their set wasn’t exactly party music. And this is coming from a Radiohead fan. I was made to leave early, apparently missing out on Unfinished Sympathy, which could have made all the difference. We’ll never know.
Hospitality Records, them what have hosted many a fine evening before, had a whole tent to themselves until the small hours, so we went there. And that’s when the night began to fall apart for me. Danny Byrd was doing his usual Let’s Play 40 Seconds Of That Song Then Stop The Beat And Reeeeewind business which to be honest gets on my tits. I just want to dance. Don’t get in my way. Our group got split up and that was agitating me. I was looking out for them, but as I’m usually the beacon they were hard to spot. Then I began to slow down. Maybe it was the drinking since midday, maybe it was the attempt to wear a waterproof over an RAF jacket, but something was telling me to go to bed. So I did.
A bit of an average end to the day, then. But what followed on Saturday was possibly the greatest, most consistently entertaining and all round fun line-up of music that I’ve ever seen. Metronomy kicked us off with their shrill voices and nerdy keyboards. After near-missing them three times now, this was my first proper sight of them, and my how they’ve grown from bedroom bleeps to full on live band dance-pop mayhem. There was a charming attempt at failed banter about cars and the weather, but what they lack in main stage experience they make up for with Heartbreaker, Radio Ladio, My Heart Rate Rapid and A Thing For Me. Synth-nerd-tastic.
Patrick Wolf. Sighs. He did it again. I wasn’t sure how his particular brand of pop would go down with the gang, but thanks to my directors commentary filling them in on just exactly what each song was written about, what the lyrics were and how many times it’s made me cry, they seemed to get the message. It was a perfect Greatest Hits set, with interestingly no inclusions from forthcoming Album #5 The Conqueror. He finished with Magic Position. We had a little dance.
Then the Gods Of Festivals were truly smiling on us. There was some confusion as to what order Kelis and Plan B were playing in. Official literature said Kelis headlining and clashing with MIA, internet rumour said otherwise. Turns out the internet was right, and I wouldn’t have found out if I hadn’t randomly turned my phone on to get a call saying Kelis is on now, get the fuck over here. It was my favourite set of the festival. Resplendent in attire fit for Cleopatra, Kelis was on top of the world. New album Fleshtone is bothering LCD’s This Is Happening for my record of the year, it’s a cracking example of how an American artist can take the European electro sound and not make something fucking terrible. It is testament to how proud and happy Kelis is with herself at the moment that she played pretty much the whole album. The old songs were there too, with Millionaire thrown into Trick Me to much cheering. I was right at the back but the love in the tent was unmistakeable, especially when ending on Acapella, possibly my tune of the festival as it hasn’t left my head since then. Kelis’ show was like nothing else I’ve seen, and I so easily could have missed it.
So with the schedule for the day now all over the shop, we got to catch the end of Roots Manuva, including the wonderful Dreamy Days, but sadly too late for Witness. He seemed on good form and I wish I could have seen more.
With a rare UK show from M.I.A, you can never quite tell what mood she’s going to be in. Thankfully, tonight she seemed to be in a playful one. Opening with a teasing medley of what to come, Galang was settled on and the dancing began. I was a bit merry by then. The rainbow laser and epic video wall was an unbelievable site. Boyz, XR2 and Bucky Done Gun were all thrown out there, but then things started to nod off into the weaker moments of the new record. /\/\ /\ Y /\ (yes, it really is called that) is a typical M.I.A album in that it contains equal part amazing pop music and unlistenable nonsense. And, a fair amount of dubstep. You know my feelings on dubstep. Opening the encore with Teqkilla, she started to encourage people on to the stage, just like she did back at Reading 2005 when she co-headlined the lowly Dance Tent with Mylo. A few turned into dozens, and as the intro to Paper Planes started up dozens turned into hundreds. We got one verse and one chorus before the plug was pulled. I found it hilarious at the time, but I feel a little short changed now. It was a mostly brilliant set, which would have felt more complete if we got to hear the song we all came to make gun signs at. Plus she didn’t get to play XXXO, one of the best singles of the year. I heard a rumour she’s facing a paycut for the stage invasion antics. So there you go.
Saturday’s delights were extra special as I woke up feeling ridiculously terrible, a situation usually reserved for Sunday. So I was apprehensive as to what horrors Sunday morning would bring. Not many, in the end, but it still took a while to get going. I was pretty comatose for Norman Jay’s DJ set. It was a good collection of tunes, and it was great to see toddlers getting down to some DnB.
The lineup for the last day really didn’t have a great deal going for it, so we lazed around and drank the remainder of our alcohol. One less thing to carry home. One thing we did make a point of catching was the massive bonfire and firework display. A Wicker Man-esque construction had been looming over a corner of the site all weekend, and it was finally set alight. We could feel the heat from across the lake. It was quite a sight when it eventually toppled.
For reasons of boredom we saw the beginning of Lilly Allen’s set. Now these words come from someone who actually owns a physical copy of her first record. I remember when she first emerged, Allen appeared to be a refreshing change from the cardboard cut out female singers with zero personality that had come before. When I first downloaded LDN I played it on a loop for days. So what happened? Over exposure perhaps, or maybe my continued inability to separate personality from musician. He second album claimed It’s Not Me, It’s You. Well, I’m happy for it to be me. She seemed to pull the biggest crowd of the weekend, so well done there. But it did nothing for me.
We were in danger of ending the weekend on a low point, so we needed a good dance to see us through. The words “Zero 7 DJ Set” don’t initially bring mind the atmosphere we were after, but how wrong we were. We dipped in and out of his three hour set which was a suitable mix of various upbeat genres, finishing on the Pilooski re-edit of Franki Valli’s Beggin’. We also took in one last wonder around the site, before a couple of us called it a night around 3am. Possibly the first time that the latest I’ve stayed up was on the last night, and I was in a bloody good mood to boot. Even after I suffered bouncer hassle and spilt an overpriced drink in the space of a few minutes.
The journey home is always tough. There’s no need to make it worse. The morning was going suspiciously well. All packed up and at the bus stop on time. More leg room than on the way down. Something had to give. The bus driver was just, if you’ll forgive the words, an utter cunt. I’ve already complained to National Express about him, and have yet to hear back, but it’s put me off setting foot on a coach ever again.
So, that’s summer over with then. Parklife seems like a lifetime ago, when it’s only been two months. And Glasto’s recovery was made all the more bearable knowing I had this treat to look forward to. But what now? Leeds in its traditional form is off the menu this year, which as I’ve been going to it and its southern cousin for half a decade now does feel a bit strange. But after last year’s lethargy, and this year’s delight of the new, it seems like a wise choice.
Now I have the fun task of remembering I have to work for a living. But the autumn seems to be bringing with it some potentially amazing gigs, so all is not lost.
Let’s be honest, going to festivals can be an effort. It’s all drink this, take that, don’t sleep, hardly eat, repeat for a week.
At the Big Chill this year I suffered some of the worst Morning Afters I’ve ever had. So it’s probably a credit to this festival (and the folk I went with) that I so easily got over them and had some of the best field-based antics of my life.
The site was hilly and picturesque. Getting up and down the massive slope on the way to the arena was a chore but the views at the top (and the potential to run into the giant inflatable balls while drunk) made up for it. There was a lot more teenagers in the crowd than I expected. In fact we were all pounced on by kids at the gate who didn’t realise they needed an adult to actually get them in to the festival. “You look like me, you could be my Dad!” Little shit. That was balanced out by the amount of literal children there with families. The main stage in the afternoon was full of kids chasing bubbles, running in circles and generally having a boogie to the music. During Thom Yorke one guy in front of me had his child on his shoulders for the whole set, and the kid was loving it. Fair play.
After spending all of Thursday drinking (honestly don’t remember what else we did) our festival started properly on Friday afternoon with Ty. It was the perfect choice. A smooth mix of soul and hip hop, with some sensational backing singers who treated us to an enviously skilled dance-off. It got us in a right good mood for the rest of the day. Plus we got to laugh about Tim Westwood.
The predicted weather for the weekend wasn’t much to smile about, however in the end it was nowhere near the drenching that was forecast. Whatever showers we had were brief and mostly happened when we were back in Tent Town. However sometimes it did impose a bit too much on our enjoyment of the music. Hope Sandoval & The Warm Inventions arrived onstage late, to a doom-ridden sky and a moderate gale. They had the good manners to open with my favourite song, Around My Smile, and Hope Sandoval’s voice has lost none of its honey-dipped husky seductiveness. However this was music for scorching afternoons or watching the sun rise on a beach. A windy field in Herefordshire wasn’t cutting it, so we made our excuses and left. A shame, as she rarely tours, but the weather wasn’t doing it justice.
Due our collective faffing we missed most of Explosions In The Sky, catching only the last couple of songs, when really a whole set needs to be taken in to appreciate it properly. What we did see sounded suitably noisy and chaotic.
With a new Radiohead album apparently imminent, a solo show from Thom Yorke is Christmas, Birthdays and new Doctor Who wrapped into one. Alas he didn’t have his superband that he toured the States with, choosing instead to play about a dozen instruments all by himself. Coming on stage looking like a ginger Worzel Gummidge, he opened with the obvious Eraser, with a few more tracks from his solo album following that. It was Radiohead songs that dominated the set, including Planet Telex, Everything In Its Right Place, I Might Be Wrong, The Gloaming, Reckoner and an acoustic Airbag at the end. There was apparently a brand new song too, but I can’t for the life of me remember what it sounded like. He was clearly loving every second, knowing a creepy glace to the crowd from his sideways-facing piano would provoke a massive reaction from the assembled crowd. I’ve been treated to a few Radiohead performances over the last few years, and it’s always difficult to be objective with a band you love so much. Yes, it’s gloomy, but there’s beauty in the gloom. Everyone arm in arm singing along to Airbag at the end was a moment.
Massive Attack headlined that night and I really wasn’t paying attention. Their new record is what is commonly referred to as “a return to form”, but their set wasn’t exactly party music. And this is coming from a Radiohead fan. I was made to leave early, apparently missing out on Unfinished Sympathy, which could have made all the difference. We’ll never know.
Hospitality Records, them what have hosted many a fine evening before, had a whole tent to themselves until the small hours, so we went there. And that’s when the night began to fall apart for me. Danny Byrd was doing his usual Let’s Play 40 Seconds Of That Song Then Stop The Beat And Reeeeewind business which to be honest gets on my tits. I just want to dance. Don’t get in my way. Our group got split up and that was agitating me. I was looking out for them, but as I’m usually the beacon they were hard to spot. Then I began to slow down. Maybe it was the drinking since midday, maybe it was the attempt to wear a waterproof over an RAF jacket, but something was telling me to go to bed. So I did.
A bit of an average end to the day, then. But what followed on Saturday was possibly the greatest, most consistently entertaining and all round fun line-up of music that I’ve ever seen. Metronomy kicked us off with their shrill voices and nerdy keyboards. After near-missing them three times now, this was my first proper sight of them, and my how they’ve grown from bedroom bleeps to full on live band dance-pop mayhem. There was a charming attempt at failed banter about cars and the weather, but what they lack in main stage experience they make up for with Heartbreaker, Radio Ladio, My Heart Rate Rapid and A Thing For Me. Synth-nerd-tastic.
Patrick Wolf. Sighs. He did it again. I wasn’t sure how his particular brand of pop would go down with the gang, but thanks to my directors commentary filling them in on just exactly what each song was written about, what the lyrics were and how many times it’s made me cry, they seemed to get the message. It was a perfect Greatest Hits set, with interestingly no inclusions from forthcoming Album #5 The Conqueror. He finished with Magic Position. We had a little dance.
Then the Gods Of Festivals were truly smiling on us. There was some confusion as to what order Kelis and Plan B were playing in. Official literature said Kelis headlining and clashing with MIA, internet rumour said otherwise. Turns out the internet was right, and I wouldn’t have found out if I hadn’t randomly turned my phone on to get a call saying Kelis is on now, get the fuck over here. It was my favourite set of the festival. Resplendent in attire fit for Cleopatra, Kelis was on top of the world. New album Fleshtone is bothering LCD’s This Is Happening for my record of the year, it’s a cracking example of how an American artist can take the European electro sound and not make something fucking terrible. It is testament to how proud and happy Kelis is with herself at the moment that she played pretty much the whole album. The old songs were there too, with Millionaire thrown into Trick Me to much cheering. I was right at the back but the love in the tent was unmistakeable, especially when ending on Acapella, possibly my tune of the festival as it hasn’t left my head since then. Kelis’ show was like nothing else I’ve seen, and I so easily could have missed it.
So with the schedule for the day now all over the shop, we got to catch the end of Roots Manuva, including the wonderful Dreamy Days, but sadly too late for Witness. He seemed on good form and I wish I could have seen more.
With a rare UK show from M.I.A, you can never quite tell what mood she’s going to be in. Thankfully, tonight she seemed to be in a playful one. Opening with a teasing medley of what to come, Galang was settled on and the dancing began. I was a bit merry by then. The rainbow laser and epic video wall was an unbelievable site. Boyz, XR2 and Bucky Done Gun were all thrown out there, but then things started to nod off into the weaker moments of the new record. /\/\ /\ Y /\ (yes, it really is called that) is a typical M.I.A album in that it contains equal part amazing pop music and unlistenable nonsense. And, a fair amount of dubstep. You know my feelings on dubstep. Opening the encore with Teqkilla, she started to encourage people on to the stage, just like she did back at Reading 2005 when she co-headlined the lowly Dance Tent with Mylo. A few turned into dozens, and as the intro to Paper Planes started up dozens turned into hundreds. We got one verse and one chorus before the plug was pulled. I found it hilarious at the time, but I feel a little short changed now. It was a mostly brilliant set, which would have felt more complete if we got to hear the song we all came to make gun signs at. Plus she didn’t get to play XXXO, one of the best singles of the year. I heard a rumour she’s facing a paycut for the stage invasion antics. So there you go.
Saturday’s delights were extra special as I woke up feeling ridiculously terrible, a situation usually reserved for Sunday. So I was apprehensive as to what horrors Sunday morning would bring. Not many, in the end, but it still took a while to get going. I was pretty comatose for Norman Jay’s DJ set. It was a good collection of tunes, and it was great to see toddlers getting down to some DnB.
The lineup for the last day really didn’t have a great deal going for it, so we lazed around and drank the remainder of our alcohol. One less thing to carry home. One thing we did make a point of catching was the massive bonfire and firework display. A Wicker Man-esque construction had been looming over a corner of the site all weekend, and it was finally set alight. We could feel the heat from across the lake. It was quite a sight when it eventually toppled.
For reasons of boredom we saw the beginning of Lilly Allen’s set. Now these words come from someone who actually owns a physical copy of her first record. I remember when she first emerged, Allen appeared to be a refreshing change from the cardboard cut out female singers with zero personality that had come before. When I first downloaded LDN I played it on a loop for days. So what happened? Over exposure perhaps, or maybe my continued inability to separate personality from musician. He second album claimed It’s Not Me, It’s You. Well, I’m happy for it to be me. She seemed to pull the biggest crowd of the weekend, so well done there. But it did nothing for me.
We were in danger of ending the weekend on a low point, so we needed a good dance to see us through. The words “Zero 7 DJ Set” don’t initially bring mind the atmosphere we were after, but how wrong we were. We dipped in and out of his three hour set which was a suitable mix of various upbeat genres, finishing on the Pilooski re-edit of Franki Valli’s Beggin’. We also took in one last wonder around the site, before a couple of us called it a night around 3am. Possibly the first time that the latest I’ve stayed up was on the last night, and I was in a bloody good mood to boot. Even after I suffered bouncer hassle and spilt an overpriced drink in the space of a few minutes.
The journey home is always tough. There’s no need to make it worse. The morning was going suspiciously well. All packed up and at the bus stop on time. More leg room than on the way down. Something had to give. The bus driver was just, if you’ll forgive the words, an utter cunt. I’ve already complained to National Express about him, and have yet to hear back, but it’s put me off setting foot on a coach ever again.
So, that’s summer over with then. Parklife seems like a lifetime ago, when it’s only been two months. And Glasto’s recovery was made all the more bearable knowing I had this treat to look forward to. But what now? Leeds in its traditional form is off the menu this year, which as I’ve been going to it and its southern cousin for half a decade now does feel a bit strange. But after last year’s lethargy, and this year’s delight of the new, it seems like a wise choice.
Now I have the fun task of remembering I have to work for a living. But the autumn seems to be bringing with it some potentially amazing gigs, so all is not lost.
Tuesday, 30 October 2007
Optimum Mathleticism
Foals, Leeds Cockpit, 5/10/07
Updates are going to be few and far between here at the moment. We had our house broken into a month ago and my laptop was pinched. Frustrating. Insurance bureaucracy is still causing me to ponce internet access off my housemates every now and again. But in the good news I’ve got and got myself a Proper Job so more gigs are on the cards. Unfortunately the manflu has just struck me down at the moment so I’ll be missing Super Furry Animals tonight and most likely British Sea Power tomorrow. Even had to give up my ticket to Annie Mac on Saturday. Gutted.
Anyway, before crime and the plague got in the way, I saw finally got to see Foals properly. A lost ticket caused most of the supports to be missed. I think we only caught the last three songs of Metronomy, but it was everything you wanted a electrowave support act to be. Catchy blips, giant lights attached to their chests and even a little synchronised dancing towards the end.
Something I’ve noticed about Yorkshire folk – they’re a bit proud of their postcode. Random moments of the evening would be punctuated with shouts of “YOOOORRRRKSHIIIIIIIIRRRRRE” in case we’d fallen asleep and thought we were still in Leicester. My company for the evening was actually from the Shire and just found it irritating.
Yet another over-long sound check later (why? I mean really, why?) and Foals finally shuffled on stage. They are geeks. Yannis stood side-on, rarely acknowledging the crowd with eye contact. What followed was an unrelenting assault in efficient rhythm-heavy Music To Dance To.
Yannis was at his most animated during his quest to climb the speaker stacks, which took three attempts. There was a look of solid and calm determination on his face.
In terms of variation there was nothing. Almost to the extent that theirs is one debut album I am not eagerly anticipating. I can imagine on record this collection of songs could sound quite dull. However, on stage they are brought to life. Equations and remainders, stream lined and tight. Who cares about the lack of variety when what is on show has such powerful rhythm that whatever available appendages can’t help but shake in time.
The songs rush by in haste. The closing triple pronged assault of Mathletics, Two Steps Twice and Hummer create a dance-off of silly proportions. Hummer sees the band disappear in a sea of kids invading the stage. It is undoubtedly their best song and a highlight of recent trips to the indie disco. It must be something to do with the right balance of cowbells, bleeps and shouting.
A closing air of mutual satisfaction. There was dancing for all.
Updates are going to be few and far between here at the moment. We had our house broken into a month ago and my laptop was pinched. Frustrating. Insurance bureaucracy is still causing me to ponce internet access off my housemates every now and again. But in the good news I’ve got and got myself a Proper Job so more gigs are on the cards. Unfortunately the manflu has just struck me down at the moment so I’ll be missing Super Furry Animals tonight and most likely British Sea Power tomorrow. Even had to give up my ticket to Annie Mac on Saturday. Gutted.
Anyway, before crime and the plague got in the way, I saw finally got to see Foals properly. A lost ticket caused most of the supports to be missed. I think we only caught the last three songs of Metronomy, but it was everything you wanted a electrowave support act to be. Catchy blips, giant lights attached to their chests and even a little synchronised dancing towards the end.
Something I’ve noticed about Yorkshire folk – they’re a bit proud of their postcode. Random moments of the evening would be punctuated with shouts of “YOOOORRRRKSHIIIIIIIIRRRRRE” in case we’d fallen asleep and thought we were still in Leicester. My company for the evening was actually from the Shire and just found it irritating.
Yet another over-long sound check later (why? I mean really, why?) and Foals finally shuffled on stage. They are geeks. Yannis stood side-on, rarely acknowledging the crowd with eye contact. What followed was an unrelenting assault in efficient rhythm-heavy Music To Dance To.
Yannis was at his most animated during his quest to climb the speaker stacks, which took three attempts. There was a look of solid and calm determination on his face.
In terms of variation there was nothing. Almost to the extent that theirs is one debut album I am not eagerly anticipating. I can imagine on record this collection of songs could sound quite dull. However, on stage they are brought to life. Equations and remainders, stream lined and tight. Who cares about the lack of variety when what is on show has such powerful rhythm that whatever available appendages can’t help but shake in time.
The songs rush by in haste. The closing triple pronged assault of Mathletics, Two Steps Twice and Hummer create a dance-off of silly proportions. Hummer sees the band disappear in a sea of kids invading the stage. It is undoubtedly their best song and a highlight of recent trips to the indie disco. It must be something to do with the right balance of cowbells, bleeps and shouting.
A closing air of mutual satisfaction. There was dancing for all.
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