The Twilight Sad have built themselves a reputation as a formidable live act, notable for both their intensity and volume. So when I interviewed James Graham beforehand and he intimated that the volume at the dates thus far on the current tour were ‘off the scale’ I knew I should brace myself.
Just how loud it was going to be was made apparent the moment the first support hit the stage. Local noisenik duo Fawn Spots aren’t the sort of act to play delicately, but as they thrashed their way through their set I was struck by how much tighter and less ramshackle they were than on previous outings. First and foremost, though, I was struck by the volume and insane delay on the vocals. In combination, the effect was transformative, turning them from a haphazardly energetic punky duo to a throbbing noise machine – albeit one that ran on for a fraction longer than was strictly necessary.
Newcomers Panda Cubs appear to have emerged fully-formed. They may sit in that gloomy corner occupied by the myriad bands who’ve based their sound on Joy Division’s blueprint, while having also synthesised many elements of the contemporary crop – Editors, Interpol, White Lies – but damn, they’ve got songs and are remarkably accomplished. Their debut single, ‘Faithful’ is a cracking dark pop tune and by no means the best song in the set. Having already received airplay on BBC Introducing and the NME website and bagged a support slot with Sissy and the Blisters in the seven months since they formed, it’s hard to imagine that they’re anywhere other than at the beginning of a rapid ascent.
The Twilight Sad have been continuously on the ascent since day one, having been signed to Fat Cat after their first gig, and flown out to New York to play their fourth. Their two album releases have each been impressive, and representative of a band who thrive on challenging themselves creatively and sonically. Their live shows, too, are invariably challenging, but I was curious to know how the new material from the forthcoming album ‘ No One Can Ever Know’, being more restrained and largely synth-driven would sit alongside the older songs.
I didn’t have to wait long to find out: Bauhaus’ ‘Double Dare’ faded out and the lights went down, leaving a slow synth bass throb as the band walked on stage and blasted into ‘Kill it in the Morning’, the closing track from said album. It may seem perverse to begin with a finale, especially one that elicited mixed reactions when it was unveiled on line a few weeks back. It was just to... unexpected. Yet in this context, it makes perfect sense. The band are immediately in the zone and the volume meters are in the red, and immediately they’re straight into a scorching rendition of ‘I Became a Prostitute’.
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Tearing into a trio of new songs including current single ‘Sick’ with gusto, it soon becomes clear that the guitars are every bit as integral to the sound as ever, and the glacial sound of the studio recordings has been adapted for the live setting. The new material does, however, serve to alter the dynamic of the set, and if anything, it’s for the better, with changes of mood and tempo making for a a greater sense of build-up and release. Plus, with some strategically-placed starker, less full-on moments, the wall of noise numbers are even more impactful, as evidenced by ‘That Birthday Present’ and the immense ‘Reflection of the Television’, which bursts into a climax that’s almost enough to liquify even the sturdiest innards, such is its punishing density.
It’s interesting, then, to observe just how relaxed the band seem, James in particular. He was hardly cracking jokes, but was uncommonly conversational, although the totality of his focus during the songs remained undiminished. In fact, while many bands come across as uncomfortable and disjointed when breaking in a substantial amount of new material, The Twilight Sad look the most confident I’ve ever seen them and have somehow managed to step things up a level.
Pulling out ‘That Summer, I Had Become the Invisible Boy’ and ‘And She Would Darken the Memory’ they’re absolutely in their element; the (metaphorical) rabbit doesn’t just die, it gets its neck wrung and its head stomped mercilessly, before they close with a gut-wrenching rendition of ‘At the Burnside’.
A set like that doesn’t need an encore: every drop of emotion and perspiration has been wrung, and I leave drained yet elated – not to mention with my hearing severely impaired despite earplugs – having seen an already great band reach a new peak.
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