Arcaning It. Live review of Arcane Roots at XOYO

Arcane Roots *****
Verses **1/2***
Empire ***1/2**

XOYO, Shoreditch, 26th November 2012

In the land of fixed gear bikes, sockless brogues, George Bernard Shoreditch beards and all manner of street food, it seems wholly reasonable to compare tonight's offerings to the outputs of chicken shops, kebab houses and pho emporia. 

Empire ***1/2**
First up are Empire. A mixed kebab with lip smacking but indeterminable meat from a variety of sources. There's a heavy but lively and upbeat meatiness topped with searing and blistering vocals from a hyperactive dreadlocked ghost chilli in the shape of frontman Joe Green. 

The songs are tidily prepared and served with fire, soul and enough citric acidity to lift them away from total middle of the road pop rock vanilla. There's more than a sprinkle of complex Mars Volta sauce mixed up with a Freeze The Atlantic alt rock strength. And a definite whiff of chopped up originality.

Notwithstanding the amazing range, delivery and strength of Green's vocals, the only slight grumble would be that many of the songs lack a discernable or killer hook. As a relatively new outfit, I'm sure this will come with time as their song craft develops, but choruses, refrains and sing-a-long chunks were not too evident this evening.

The Empire Doner: Spicy, meaty, with a fresh zingy complex topping laden with face-melting vocal chilli sauce. Probably needs a bit longer to mature into the full monty. Powerful and tasty stuff though.

Verses **1/2***

After a decent and spicy kebab it's time for one of those spring roll type of affairs. You know the sort, tasty enough, but you're really not sure what you're eating. And Verses are more of the Iceland frozen family spring roll than anything more challenging.

Yes it's palatable and quite flavoursome; but it's never really fulfilling and substantial. Having seen Verses develop over the last couple of years, there's no denying that they've upped their game considerably. The ingredients and preparation have been streamlined and refined, but you can't help but feel the need for some extra clout, spice and bite.

There are and have been so many bands in this Morrisson's middle ground, many of whom have been sadly and forlornly confined to the wheely bin at the back of the caff - from Natives and Futures to Francesqa and Coastline - it's bloody hard work and being different is as much of a battle and a challenge as being good.

And good is what Verses are. But that's about it at the moment. While Canterbury, Don Broco, Deaf Havana and LTA stride on in their rampage for chart domination and seducing the nose-ringed, dip dyed sorority, bands like Verses have got their work cut out to keep up.

The Verses savoury spring roll: Tasty enough but all a bit safe. Too many bland but pleasant vegetables with not quite enough meat or gristle. Fills a hole. But leaves you wanting more quite quickly. Nice with a lager though.

Arcane Roots *****
As Shoreditch wipes the last crumbs and grease spots from the amuse-bouches out of its collective strong beard, it's time for the main course. And an absolutely rammed XOYO with it's weird topography and useless bars is salivating and drooling at what's next.

Tonight one of the hottest names in the broader rock genre in the UK are here to stuff our faces with rich riffs, fuck off scotch bonnet bangers and spicy sophistication. And man, do they deliver.

Despite some early stodgy and slightly gloopy sound problems, this is cuisine from the highest of high tables. Adventurous, fulfilling, challenging, spicy, heavenly and sumptuous. This is not fast food, but 3 Michelin-starred deliciousness, suffused with skilfully prepared, curated and cleverly mixed ingredients.

After Energy is Never Lost, Just Redirected, and the magnificent Slow, a hugely clever medley of some of the heavier and hearty bits of the excellent Left Fire (mini) album including Million Dollar Que$tion and In This Town of Such Weather serve as a warm and delicious reminder of where this chef's collective cut its Sabatier-sharp sabre teeth. 

There's power aplenty in every dish served up. The sound sorts itself out and songs from the album of the year Blood & Chemistry including the sublime Hell And High Water are sung back with joy, vigour an emotion by just about every mouth on every hipster's head. Spine tingling interraction that gives a true glimpse of an inevitable stadium-filling future.

The highlight of the evening though, for me, is the remarkable 'song prepared three ways', Triptych. It's the first time I've ever seen it live and it is without a doubt the dazzling centrepiece of what is rapidly turning into the best show of the year. Quite how frontman and beardy guitar wizard Andrew Groves effortlessly flambés such a complex riff while not missing a note with his searing and sizzling voice is beyond the ken of most mere mortals - truly astonishing.

And it keeps coming like a bacchanalian feast or 23 course renaissance banquet: old favourite You Are brings the house down and the testes torturing and bowel bullying riff of Resolve savagely cajoles the boisterous crowd into writhing, half-time infused ecstasy.

By the time You Keep Me here melts into the haunting and choral soufflé for which assorted members of the undercard join messrs Burton, Atkins and Groves on stage, the crowd is stuffed to the gills. Replete. Emotional. Sated. Dribbling. Spent. 

There is no more wafer thin mint of an encore, but no one minds. What we've witnessed here is surely Britain's greatest new rock band playing live rock music of truly world class quality. 

They're just about to be reunited with Biffy Clyro in mainland Europe for more stadium work. It truly won't be that long before this lot of Blumenthalesque magicians are serving up their own delicious and challenging cuisine to stadiums full of their own hungry, adoring customers. A brilliant band. A brilliant night. A brilliant performance. Yum.

The Arcane Roots fusion melange: Delicious. Meaty. Powerful. Sophisticated. Joyous. Gorgeous. Oh, fuck it, just fucking amazing.

Now for a kebab...

Living Bromance - Futures and Don Broco live XOYO review

Futures***1/2**

Don Broco*****

Natives*****

XOYO Shoreditch July 10^th

Fixed gear bikes, stupidly mannered short drainpipe trousers, dad’s old shoes, feature facial hair, boot sale ‘vintage’ specs and tote bags. Can only be Shoreditch. 

And tonight the sodden streets of London’s über cool diocese are broken up by a massive queue of scene kids, industry types, hipsters, boozers, losers and Jacuzzi users as door opening time approaches at the achingly cool XOYO.

Judging by the number of folk who’ve braved the rain to get here early, it’s going to be a popular night in the company of three of the UK’s finest exponents of smart and dangerously catchy poppy rocky noisy nonsense.

Always been suspicious of The New Forest

First up are the present darlings of the New Forest, Natives***** Now I’m not sure whether it’s Shoreditch camouflage, trying to get a headstart for Movember or that the new forest is caught in an Isle of Wight/mid Wales timewarp, but I’m fairly sure their lead singer is sporting what’s pretending to be a moustache. Along with Damon Tang of noisy bastards Acoda’s early Sam Allardyce growth I feel two are probably well enough on the scene. No more chaps. Please. 

Anyway, I digress (plus ça change!). Are they any good? (facial hair notwithstanding). Well, yes. Loud poppy but not frothy tunes with great vox, fist waving melodies and big-arsed choruses are served up on a bed of technically shifting riffage. All good.

The only mild concern is the recent boom in bands of this ilk are making it so hard to generate any original space or sustain any measurable distance or difference. So bands like Tellison, Jumping Ships, Drawings, Mallory Knox and Canterbury are all fighting for share of what’s becoming a crowded marketplace. Don’t get me wrong all of the aforementioned have enough signature originality to be sufficiently different from each other and the music they’re producing is generally of the top order. There’s just a lot of it about.

No matter, the already packed crowd guzzle down the fare like thirsty students on a free WKD promo night. Smiles, sweat and sing-a-longs. Marvellous.

Don Broco*****

There’s just so much noise around the bouncing Bedford badasses at the moment (all totally well earned I might add!) that the general feeling is a huge proportion of the assembled throng are here for Bobby and the boys as much as (and in truth if not more) than for Futures themselves.

And not surprisingly. After kicking off with the mighty Priorities (complete with the walk), there’s not a sweaty pierced neck left without tingles or a tattooed arm without goosebumps in the house. And that’s just the first tune!

Monsieur Damiani is such a showman and commands the stage from the off. Cajoling the fizzy-knickered masses to get involved. Either physically or dutifully bleating back refrains.

Puppies, sunsets, and pretty rainbows..oh, and Gwaaarrrr

Older Broco favourites like the more infectious than a Thai masseur’s front bottom Beautiful Morning and the set ending rifftacular Dreamboy are merged perfectly with newer offerings to produce a set and a performance as near to perfection as any I’ve seen for many a year (albeit a regrettably short support slot). And to cap it all, the genius of Thug Workout was even given a riotous airing accompanied by walls of death and the now compulsory push up boys.

If Natives were as smooth and punchy as a peach daiquiri, we were now moving towards the finest and most potent of delicious cocktails. This is brilliantly constructed, melodic, complex, witty and multi-layered stuff. Impossible to truly catergorise lurching wildly from moments of pure pop bliss to spleen splitting riffs and drops. Totally original lyrical phrasing. Sardonic swipes at showbiz types. Modern urban hymns about bros before hos. And, while not taking themselves too seriously or shoegazingly, this martini is shaken up and served with incredible musicianship and skill. So bloody clever. So bloody catchy. So bloody good.

I know the boys are out on the road supporting the magical LTA in the autumn, but surely that will be among their last support performances. If the utterly brilliant and blitzy Actors and equally magnificent Fancy Dress are portents of what’s to come on the forthcoming Priorities album, this mesmerising, tight-as-a-Great-White’s-bumhole at 20,000ft bunch of likeable and captivating rogues will steal so many more hearts on their inevitable rise to masivedom. Girls want to shag ‘em. Blokes want to be them. A perfect, intoxicating and heady mix. Hic.

Futures***1/2**

Now this is going to be difficult. Futures are a great band. Fact. They produce shiny indie-fused pop rock out of the top drawer. Great melodies. Spine tingling harmonies. And all buffed and shiny. But how on God’s earth can I be objective after the Don Broco tour de force? Well, in short, I can’t be. So I’m not going to be mean. I’ve seen this lot on several occasions and they never disappoint. 

But, if Don Broco are a pimped up, convertible, supercharged, snarling sexy sportscar rammed to the roll bar with babes in bikinis, sub machine guns and sacks of drugs careering along the Corniche or Sunset Strip, then Futures are a Bentley Mulsanne. On a country lane. With a hamper in the back. There’s certainly power under the bonnet and moments of aggression. But, they fail to fully excite. Well, in fairness, the majority of the delirious crowd wouldn’t necessarily agree as they sing along with just about every word. But I found them, well, er too nice. Jolly good. But just a bit too jolly nice.

Righty ho, The amazing Burnout Festival coming soon.

So many brilliant bands in one sweaty venue. Going to be awesome.

In the meantime, here's an assortment of video delights loosely connected with the ramblings above.

More tunes soon. Bwoooar!