Compare and contrast: roughly one year ago - give or take a few weeks - Twin Atlantic were sweating their internal organs out in The Other Rooms, just up the road in neighbouring (well, sorta) Newcastle, watching 200-or-so rabid punters hurling themselves at the world's smallest stage, not giving a rat's ass about the well being of themselves or anyone else around them. The resultant melee was thrilling, a cyclone of untethered, erratic energy that you just couldn't help but get swept up in.
Tonight, however, there's an altogether different story being told. Rather than some intimate pressure cooker, we have a cavernous, imposing former theatre; in place of the piss-stained, flaking walls, there are overpowering video screens and instead of 200 sweaty lunatics looking for a good time, we have 150 casual observers (wrapped comfortably in their coats and scarves to fight off the unfathomable draft that sweeps through the venue), content to let the music wash over them rather than drum up any sort of response to it. There are pockets of resistance to this indifference: a handful of devotees, determined to attack the discordant guitars and sporadic rhythms with every muscle in their scrawny bodies, but they number few and in this former Walkabout (yes, you read that right), their power is seriously diminished.
It's a shame really, as both Twin Atlantic and refreshingly bizarre support Stagecoach (terrible name mind, guys) are on fire this evening, making every conceivable effort to whip their audience into some semblance of activity. Stagecoach's preference is to leap from the elevated stage into the pit, forcing Durham to sit up and pay attention. They're a decidedly curious bunch, decked out in Diana Vickers T-shirts and all-too-short short shorts, playing a peculiar brand of off-kilter power pop, and while there are some questionable lyrical moments - the song that rhymes 'freezer' with 'pizza' is of particular note - their arresting eccentricity carries them through. Unfortunately, they're a little kooky for the cool kids in the crowd, and Durham remains steadfastly perplexed when they hand their mandolin to one check-shirted punter at the end of the set, who promptly does absolutely nothing with it. Give that thing to the lunatics in Newcastle and it would've been smashed into a hundred pieces in five minutes.
Perhaps agitated by this indifference, Twin Atlantic try their damnedest to provoke a reaction, coming out with all guns blazing, tearing current single 'Edit Me' a new one, turning up the volume and obliterating everyone's eardrums in the process. To be fair, a few are won over, prompting the occasional flurry of activity, but for the most part, folded arms and politely nodding heads are the order of the day; yes, even when Sam McTrusty implores Durham to do better than this on a Friday night, insulting us all in a semi-sorta-round-about-kinda way. Still, there comes a point at which even the most ardent and wizened of showmen must admit defeat and just let the music speak for itself which, thankfully, even in this all-too-gargantuan venue, it does expertly.
Sensibly, this is a 'Vivarium'-heavy set, punctuated with the occasional newbie - all deliciously loud and frighteningly aggressive - and the requisite ancient tracks for the dedicated (you probably know the drill by now: the intense 'A Guidance From Colour', the beautiful 'Crashland'). The singles are all here in earnest: 'Lightspeed' stands tall, its cascade of mighty guitars towering over our heads; 'You're Turning Into John Wayne' is full of bile, hissing and spitting at a nameless target; 'Audience and Audio' is a behemoth of punk aggression and 'Human After All' and 'What Is Light? Where Is Laughter?' rock like a couple of drunken bastards at a Slayer after-show. 'Caribbean War Syndrome' is the unquestionable highlight, however, managing to sound even more epic than on record, taking Durham on a roller coaster ride of thrills, spills and juxtapositions, careering along at a breakneck pace, ready to fall apart one minute and offering moments of tenderest beauty the next. It's a work of unquestionable genius, a song so ridiculously amazing that you want to crawl inside it and set up home, and tonight, Twin Atlantic do every last millisecond justice.
There's little doubt, therefore, that these guys are now absolute masters of their craft, having transformed into a well-oiled, highly accomplished live act. It's just a shame that Durham couldn't get itself a little more excited by that fact. Throw 'em in the Fishtank next time and let the devotees show 'em how it's done.
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