It probably seemed like a good idea at the time. While tour mates Jimmy Eat World take a well-earned rest, Minus the Bear would high tail it to Newcastle for a show of their own in the shoebox that is Academy 2. On this frost-bitten evening however, icicles hanging from the rafters, you could forgive the boys from warmer climes for being downtrodden; for wanting nothing more than to pack away their fancy keyboards and FX pedals (of which there are many) and get the hell out of this joint.
To MTB's credit, though, there's no sign of the Winter blues, and the same is true of tonight's support: local noiseniks My Tiny Robots woo an initially reserved and polite crowd with a deliciously funky set. The eponymous closing track is particularly sexy, morphing into a gigantic rock beast with a thoroughly evil bass line. Leeds boys Sketches are even better, marrying the angular indie theatrics of Bloc Party and Editors with a more delicate touch, courtesy of the band's spidery, gangly lead singer, who remains perched on his tip toes for the duration of the set, looking like he's about to topple over. It creates an interesting contrast with the restless energy of guitarist Matt Hutt who, when he isn't driving each track with his wiry, high-pitched riffs, is ruthlessly assaulting the overblown lump of wood he holds in his hands. It makes for enchanting viewing and there are a fair few converts created as a result.
The crowd's adulation is reserved for the main attraction, however. Tonight, ladies and gentlemen, the mostly-bearded, high-spirited Minus the Bear are mesmerising; lead singer Jake Snider commands his 250 strong army with every silky smooth vocal, while Dave Knudson's sweat-drenched guitar tricks and FX jiggery-pokery captivate from the aggressive opening chops of a pulsating 'Secret Country' to the four-to-the-floor progpunk hybrid that is much-lauded closer 'Absinthe Party at the Fly Honey Warehouse'. And then there's the treasure trove of unfathomable noises emanating from Alex Rose's mini production corner, coating the overwhelmingly funky bass lines of the band's newer material with a deliciously obtuse sheen. 'Hold Me Down' glistens, 'Into the Mirror' sparkles and current single 'My Time', one of the highlights of the evening, has an irresistibly infectious charm, sheepishly worming its way through the enthralled crowd, goading the masses into a toe-tapping frenzy.
There are plenty of pleasant surprises too: a riotous tumble through the eons-old 'Spritz!!! Spritz!!!' nuzzles up comfortably to the blissful technicolor dreamscapes of the epic 'White Mystery'; an unusual juxtaposition on paper, perhaps, but one that translates perfectly live. The only drawback, sadly, is that it's all over far too soon: fourteen songs in and the band are ready to depart, despite the howls of objection from the insatiable crowd. Still, treat 'em mean, keep 'em keen, as they say; and as if in an attempt to placate our frustration, MTB make a point of personally thanking everyone in the first few rows, acknowledging the depth of love on show. It's a heartwarming gesture, and on this most bitter of evenings, it's all we really need. A veritable triumph.
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