Well hello, Band of Horses. It's been a while. Too long for some, if the deafening round of applause that greets the arrival of the Seattle six piece is anything to judge by. Newcastle's prestigious O2 Academy may not be sold out this evening but it certainly feels like it and there's little doubt that our favourite alt-rock-cum-Americana-folksters (okay, so perhaps that's a bit over the top) are rather stoked about this fact. Cheesy grins and awestruck exclamations are the order of the day for the snazzily-dressed noisemakers and consequently, the ninety minutes we share in their company are characterised by one thing only: the determination to have some fun.
Yes, Band of Horses are here to have a gosh-darned-it good time and they want you to share the experience. Sure, their music may lapse more often than not into melancholia and it's not as if any of the songs they deign to unleash on us this evening would go down particularly well at parties, but what the hey, let's stamp our feet, shake our heads and bellow the words like this is Muse at Wembley Stadium. Or something equally as spine-tingling. How hard can it be? Too hard for Newcastle, apparently. For all this is a resolutely attentive and considerably devoted crowd, there's barely a hint of movement for the majority of the set. Instead, the good folk of this most acclaimed of 'party cities' prefer to keep their feet firmly on the ground, their eyes focused squarely on the stage and their minds free of anything that might allow the music to animate them. This isn't necessarily a bad thing, of course; there's no question that everyone here is having a wail of a time, but it does leave the whole experience feeling a little staid. The general ignorance doesn't help matters: if it isn't from 'Cease To Begin', the Geordies haven't a clue, which leads Ben to request that 'if anyone knows the words to any of these, just let us know' around six songs in.
This disappointment is only momentary, however. Band of Horses's skillful command of the stage quickly allows all thoughts of the audience's failings to fitter away to nothing and attention turns to the powerful depth of emotion inherent in their performance. The 'Infinite Arms' numbers nail introspection, Ben joining Tyler for an achingly tender run through 'Evening Kitchen' (pity some 'dildo', as Ben describes him, almost ruins it by shouting throughout the song). 'Cigarettes, Wedding Bands' and 'The Funeral' rock like absolute bastards, building and building to their inevitable crescendos and exploding in a shower of deliciously fuzzy guitar haze, the likes of which were last seen when The Arcade Fire shot their load all over the main stage at Glastonbury.
And then, of course, there's 'Is There A Ghost?' - met with the loudest singalong of the evening and matching all our expectations, glistening with intensity - and 'No One's Gonna Love You', cracked, broken, imperfect and just plain brilliant. Eyes are shut, fists are clenched, arms are flung around lovers and tears fall down the faces of the broken hearted as Newcastle finally allows itself a moment of untempered enjoyment. If Band of Horses have a legacy, it will surely be the remarkable honesty and resonance of this song, their 'It's My Own Cheating Heart...', their 'Don't Look Back In Anger', their 'Hallelujah'. The gig is much more than these three minutes but they encapsulate the band's genius more effectively than any two bit cliche we could hope to muster up.
There's little doubt that tonight's 23 song soiree is a resounding success (and yes, that even takes into account the static shots of trees, animals and suburban vistas that make up the visuals) but then, when you're presented with a group of individuals with the depth of talent on display here, it would be churlish to expect anything less. The jury's still out on the audience - attentiveness is great sure, but a little animation wouldn't go amiss - but then, that's Newcastle's problem. Band of Horses gave this city every last weapon in their impressive arsenal and that, my friends, is all we really need.
No comments:
Post a Comment