Saturday, 26 October 2013

The Karmathutra. Live review of Delta Sleep at Catch Bar.



Delta Sleep *****
Suffer Like G Did ****1/2*
Our Lost Infantry *****

Catch Bar, Shoreditch, 23rd October 2013

Trendy old Shoreditch. Downtown Ho Chi Minh City but with beards, bicycles and bellends. And, tonight host to one of the most adventurous and genuinely exciting bills that this achingly self-loving part of town has seen in a while. Like a mini taster or distilled essence of the triumphant Arc Tan Gent Festival (review here) earlier this year.

Catch is one of those long thin, rectilinear penis-shaped venues. The balls are the milling about bit, the shaft, flanked by a long bar - where most of the flat cap wearing, chin-scratching coolites are hanging - and the engorged glans, the bulging pit in front of a wee, but well equipped stage.  A bit like a less well hung MacBeth.


Our Lost Infantry *****
Anyway, it’s pretty much full from its whiffy bridge to its japseye tonight by the time that Aldershot quartet Our Lost Infantry sidle on to face the impressive, throbbing throng.

From the off, they take command of the cavorting. Youthfully and enthusiastically swinging wildly between intricately arousing strokes, sweeps and touches to meaty pummeling and brutal drops, riffs and thrusts.

And it’s insanely satisfying. The harmonies married with techy trips and tunes magic up heady and irresistible rogering, if not, at times more of an excited dry-humping puppy dog than an oiled up, experienced L.A. stud muffin. But what a start to the evening. This is no foreplay: just straight for the G spot.

Lovely to see such young guys producing such sophisticated, intricate but not at all onanistic and ultimately accessible, terrific stuff. More please. But need a quick recovery nap to get the mercury rising again.


Suffer Like G Did ****1/2*
Ok, sap levels restored. Well, as good as it’s going to get. Next on the spotlighted platform of pleasure are Londoners with the splendid House of The Dead inspired nomenclature; quirky, geeky and alarmingly alluring Suffer Like G Did.

Carrying on the sensorial slapping and schlonging little brothers Our Lost Infantry instigated, they produce an absolutely electric, greased up, spectacularly mesmerising and arrhythmia-inducing blitz that leaves even the most hardened beard fondling Joy Of Sex extra look-e-likey (as your dad kids) breathless and flushed.

This is technically brilliant without ever bordering on ‘by rote’ or contrived. It’s a fresh, fantastic, jaw-dropping mash up of seductive funky lines and being stabbed in the ringpiece by fizzing and probing polyrhythms and all manner of adventurous digital  exploration.

At times, there are moments of pure fusion: Al Di Meola, Return To Forever, Bitches Brew era Miles Davis and even Herbie Hancock, but just as you’re settling into the penetrative funky vibe, it all goes Dillinger Escape Plan, Stravinsky and Stockhausen. But without being intrusive or dissonant for the sake of it. File alongside the brilliant Physics House Band and you won’t be that far away.

The playing, interplaying and construction displays a knowing but never self-regarding temporal perfection. And they seem to be blushingly, and uncomfortably, loving it.

The crowd, their supplicant and greedy quarry, is writhing in pleasurable abandon as the cool dudes who are calling all the shots are embarrassedly looking fixedly downwards at their desert boots and hush puppies. Almost blissfully unaware of the super-heated stimulus they’re doling out.

Stunning, beguiling, heart-stopping and fresh. This is modern lovemaking of the highest, engaging and technical order. Oh yes. Yes. Yes.


Delta Sleep *****
By now, we’re all replete. Overflowing. A bit sore. Fulfilled. Leaking. But then another unlikely ├╝ber-sexy beast armed with all manner of potions, lotions, tinctures, straps, tools, toys and devices enters the boudoir. And won’t take no for an answer.

What ensues is truly x-rated. Rougher, deeper, at times angrier, edgier, more daring, but underpinned with the same consummate skills, trickery and guile the first two lovers had ejaculated upon us. There’s math aplenty, but soused in Meet Me In St Louis or Reuben-like pop punk and alt reveries.

A totally mind-altering, stunning and moving collection of melody, rhythm, harmony, aggression, technical prowess and inventiveness. This is raw, but sophisticated. Rough, but silky smooth. Frenzied but controlled. Bludgeoning but dexterous. And bloody eye-rollingly and chest-blushingly wonderful.

The refrain in Jesus Bill!!!! Gets the limbs, hearts and minds aching with deep joy with every man, jack and Harriet joining in while swinging from the chandeliers.

The band themselves look slightly taken aback at the reaction. We did that? Yes you fucking did. And we want more. More. More…more. No bottom drawer faded and careworn applecatchers here. Every detail of this naughty outfit is designed and delivered to turn on. To excite. Top drawer precision-designed hand stitched erotica. Gulp.


The joy spreads like a voracious and all consuming STD. Before long, everyone is infected. Affected. Satiated. The telepathy between the performers is micro-second perfect and the drumming throughout is genuinely other worldly. This dreadlocked wizard is one of the most laconic, laid back skin ticklers I’ve seen in years, but is truly incredible and provides the batteries and vibration behind the lion’s share of the priapic performance.

By the time the set ends, there isn’t a pore that hasn’t issued, a follicle erected and any naughty squishy bits haven’t got, well squishier. The guys (and gal) seem shocked at the baying and begging entreaties for more and dip back into the love toy bag to produce a triple strength prototype double ended violator of a freshly baked new tune that gives everyone, including the band, the happiest of happy finishes.


Simply unforgettable. Stimulating. And unfair to many other a band. I feel ruined, rooted, loved, abused, seduced and completely spent. Amazing stuff.

I really can't remember a gig of such unrelenting and exciting quality. All 3 bands (apologies to the evening's opening act Adults, The Elderly And Children for missing them, a Vietnamese feast sidetracked me - well a man's got to eat, even in Shoreditch) were of such outstanding quality. While there's challenging, technically masterful and engaging music like this on the scene, then all our wretched lives are saved. Bloody marvellous.

Need a lie down. 



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