"Well, it's all going rather fucking well so far, isn't it?" proclaims singer/ guitarist Johnny Bramwell as a particularly visceral version of new album treat "From Your Favourite Sky" winds down.
He's right an' all, you know. Despite playing second fiddle to the woefully over-rated Dubliner David Kitt on this Irish jaunt (and having their name printed in shamefully small print on the poster here tonight), ace Mancunian trio I AM KLOOT are grasping the nettle. And the gradually swelling ranks of Kitt-ophiles are rightly realising they are more than a mere diversion to the headliner. This lot are listening.
They bloody should, too. Kloot have just released an eponymous second album that's guarenteed one of the year's best and they've come here - to this old dancehall that once hosted the Brian Jones-era Stones with its' faded glamour and golden Lion statuettes - to start spreading the word.
Considering they've released two superbly weighted albums, brimming with possibilities, it's no surprise Kloot can mix and match the two records with some aplomb. The sound out front's crystal clear (my only minor gripe is that Johnny's guitar could be a bit louder at times) and this is gonna be a good one.
Sparks fly early. Even devoid of the album's vibe colouring, "A Strange Arrangement Of Colour"s jazzy, Bacharachian lope comes good, with Andy Hargreaves' drumming alternating superbly between powerhouse pounding and tricksy offbeats. Compelling stuff, as is "From Your Favourite Sky," arguably this writer's favourite from the new album: the superbly bitchy "You possess savoir-faire, put cheap beach on yer hair" line spat out with considerable venom by Johnny tonight.
Initially unassuming, Kloot's naturally dishevelled charisma also soon oozes out onstage. Bassist Peter Jobson gives it the full Jah Wobble bit, remaining seated throughout, with his floppy fringe bobbing as he levers up subterranean lines; Andy's an unmissable blur of sticks, arms and concentration and off to one side, there's Johnny, hunched over his semi-acoustic, casting a watchful eye over the crowd and letting loose wry observations 'tween songs. It's quite sparse, but just right, allowing these songs the air of earthy mystery they need to breathe. The older songs, meanwhile, possess more clarity and vitality than ever: arguably the pinnacle being a forceful "To You", though it's followed by an equally memorable version of the new single "3 Feet Tall", with its' probing flecks of guitar, kooked-out wisdom and Andy's heroic cowbell.
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They save perhaps the very best or last. Down the front, the primitive, amphetamined rush of voodoo that is "Life In A Day" cuts to the bone, with Andy's animalistic instincts given free rein and Johnny switching to full Burns electric to give it some distorto magic. "Love, mercy mild, freedom brought you such a filthy child," he rasps, with considerable menace, as the hypnotic proto-Iggy waves crash over your head. It's quite a headfuck to exit with and most of this lot would have 'em back for far more if this was a perfect world.
Kloot have a tough, profile-building few months ahead, but as statements of intent go, this was a memorable one. The spirit, the energy, the self-belief and - most important of all - Johnny Bramwell's superbly resonant songs - are all present and correct. It's time to take them on, on their own terms. You're a fool to yourself if you continue to ignore them.
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