Live Review: Deerhuner, Lower Dens

Oran Mor, Glasgow
Monday 28 March

If you can judge a band by its audience, then Deerhunter have come a very long way. A few years ago Bradford Cox’s crew would have been coddled by a harem of skinny-fit hipsters, all scratching bearded chins while basking in their own sense of self-worth. But the punters flocking to Oran Mor’s decadent surroundings are of an entirely different ilk. Tonight’s demographic is a melange of the young and the old, the bald and the mohaired, the hip and the hipless. Somehow, amidst all the hype and all the controversy, Deerhunter have become a band of the people. In fact, make that many people.

In terms of aspiration, support act Lower Dens seem focused on re-enacting the rise of tonight’s main draw. Trudging on to stage with the kind of demoralised apathy you’d expect in a Lib-Dem campaign room, the Baltimore quartet roll out ice-glazed melodies with stoic determination, if little charisma. Wheezing with slouching guitar and lolloping bass, each misty effort tumbles along like airless Beach House off-cuts, led by Jana Hunter’s codeine mew. To put it simply, if Deerhunter were to reproduce, this would be the result.

At their best, Lower Dens skilfully architect waves of dreamy psych-pop. When Hunter’s tender intone rises above the rainbow-coloured washes of instrumentation, she apes a bong-struck Patti Smith ; part tortured gnarl, part wistful purr. Yet nesting within these highs are the sort of ambling, monotonal chords and dreary atmospherics that causes ripples of discontent in a steadily expanding crowd. Despite the lulls, this rosy-cheeked, ambitious outfit have done enough to prove they have the ammo to turn out a formidable live show. Sadly for us, it’s just not tonight.

Thankfully, our headliners have no such worries. Led to the stage by the towering Cox, Deerhunter’s arrival is greeted with the kind of reception reserved for those of a much grander stature. But, right now, the Atlanta four piece are very close to being that kind of band. The ear-pleasing effect of last year’s Halcyon Digest resonated outside muso climes; its retrograde sways coaxing in an audience more taken with jaunty, foot-stomping melodies than grass-chewing stoner dazes. Sure, the record is nuanced with typically intricate flourishes, but the up-tempo tones carved out a new direction and brought with it a swell of late-coming admirers.

As if to counteract this new found devotion, Cox kicks off proceedings with a freshly written number (so fresh it was apparently penned in soundcheck). Temporarily entitled ‘Glasgow 90’, the three minute rush of crunching guitar and guttural drums sets a fast pulse that rarely settles for the next hour. This is not the languid, pavement-gazing Deerhunter of Microcastles and Cryptograms. No, tonight, Deerhunter exude aggression, as if an ethereal veil has been lifted to expose a rabid, snarling mongrel of clattering, grey matter-gnawing sound.

Of course, the most rousing and immediate moments are laden with hooks. ‘Desire Lines’ is a pirouetting whirl of sunblushed tune that soars skywards with spine-tingling optimism; ‘Memory Boy’’s punching rhythm rattles out as a beat-up rock‘n’roller; while ‘Nothing Ever Happens’ is an electrifying neo-punk epic that has Cox teetering on the brink of the crowd while rampant swathes of acid-stained distortion buzz from stage. It’s a thrilling, heart palpitating ride that, at times, finds Cox in the unseemly and rather curious position of knife-edged rocker.

For all this boisterous musical girth, the tender-hearted flurries pull hardest. ‘Agrophobia’s quilted guitar flecks make a gorgeous, quilt-covering encore and the immaculate ‘Helicopter’ is equally lush, melting into a blur of glooping melodic strains. But twinkling reverie ‘He Would Have Laughed’ is the real knock out. Building on a rhythmic gallop of percussion, its tautly plucked notes rise into a jaw-plunging kaleidoscopic trip that eventually topples under its own weight as Cox croaks “I don’t need nobody on my bond” with crippling despair.

Such a sonorous climax highlights exactly where this mesmerising ensemble sits in 2011. Make no mistake, this is a band at the height of its musical powers; a band not scared to push beyond comfort zones or boundaries. And while the crowd may stretch from far and wide, tonight they stand together in unison, singing from one rhapsodic hymn sheet: Deerhunter’s.

Photo: Su Anderson

10 tracks of 2010

So, that’s Christmas done then. Presents opened; meat devoured; copious volumes of wine skulled. With 2011 now looming forebodingly on the horizon, I thought I’d take a look back through my musical catalogue to pick out my ten favoured tracks of the last 12 months.

All in all, it’s been a bulbous musical year. My eardrums seem to have been drowning in glitchy electro that’s incites languid head nods rather than dancefloor limb-flinging. Despite this penchant for mother-board made bleeps and blips, there’s was a deluge of staple guitar-based bands that produced the musical goods, particularly from north of the border.

Anyway, enough procrastinating. Here are the ten tracks that stuck their pistols to my temples and demanded repeat listening in 2010 (click each title for videos)…

Honestly The Beast – John Knox Sex Club

The locally concocted hype that enshrouds Scottish bands can be as off-putting as it is intriguing. So, there was something admirable about a band like John Knox Sex Club quietly stepping into the spotlight with debut LP Blud Rins Cauld. Part demonic throb, part melancholic weep, Honestly The Beast perfectly cross-sections the band’s uncompromising tendencies. The weep of violin juxtaposed against a wild-eyed scree of post-rock is an astonishing rumble that places this thrilling Glasgow outfit amidst the creamy crop of 2010’s best.

Aidy’s Girl Is a Computer – Darkstar

I fell hard for effects board wizardry in 2010. Seriously, I spent most of the year slavering like a doe-eyed teen over any beard-sporting, Macbook-slinging electro-cat that purred its way into my lugholes. Undoubtedly, Darkstar’s North was the head pickling delight of the year’s rhythmically slinky records; a careful concoction of textured soundscapes and emotive songwriting that uncovered fresh rewards on every listen . Oddly, standout number Aidy’s Girl Is A Computer was a strange anomaly on the record’s luscious musical pasture. Awash with textured electronica, the track’s voiceless sprawl of beat-fed repetition creates a hypnotising glare of pinball machine melody that’s impossible to shake.

He Would Have Laughed – Deerhunter

Even if it wasn’t written as a tribute to the sadly departed Jay Retread, He Would Have Laughed would still moisten the most hardened tear ducts. Immersed in a tide of cascading percussion and chiming guitar, Bradley Cox’s strained intone barely breathes amongst the opening notes of this transcendental haze. But as the track’s layers slowly peel away, his pleading crow begs its way to the fore as a wallow of self-pity that gnarls away at any remaining heart-strings. It’s a stunning arrangement that deserves wider airing, but considering how unappreciated much of Cox’s work is (partly down to his own relentless output), this will likely go down as another masterful effort that gets filed away without much notice.

Rachel & Cali – Damien Jurado

Picking a track from Jurado’s masterful LP Saint Bartlett was a tough call, but the ghostly aesthetic of Rachel & Cali just about scrapes it. Built on skeletal acoustic rhythm and Jurado’s echoic, agonised vocal, this shimmering cut is testament to pure songwriting – something 2010 has strangely lacked. Jurado’s always been skilled in picking at the bones of his past and a fug of personal retrospect blankets this lushly composed lament. As tear-jerkers go, you’re unlikely to have heard anything as brittle or honest in 2010.

I Built Myself A Metal Bird – Thee Silver Mt Zion Memorial Orchestra

A rampaging blast of Fugazi-like guitar, this was the stand out cut from Thee Silver Mt. Zion...’s widely overlooked Kollaps Tradixionales. Admittedly, Efrim Menuck’s jarring wail is an acquired, possibly unlovable, taste but here his ear-bleeding wail falls perfectly into place amongst the rapacious whirlwind of violin, riff and percussion. What he’s warbling on about, it’s impossible to say, but this is a serrated affair that cuts its way deep through your nervous system.

The Splendour – Pantha Du Prince

Another electro-bending hypnotist who flooded my ear drums this year was German-based producer Hendrik Weber. Riding under the moniker Pantha Du Prince, Weber’s third full-length, Black Noise, was a remarkably amphibian affair. The Splendour’s arid soundscape may not seem like the most immediate number on a record that contains the infectious Noah Lennox collaboration ‘Stick To My Side’, but unravel its endless layers and you’ll find yourself embedded in a gloriously rich velodrome of perpendicular rhythm.

New Ruin – Meursault

Despite the slavering attention it received elsewhere, All Creatures Will Make Merry (ACWMM) never really clicked with me. Live, Meursault are a formidable beast; yet for some reason that bombast never truly washed through their second full LP. Perhaps my expectations were too high, but ACWMM felt more like a step to the side than a step forward. But embedded within the album was a track that underscored Meursault’s live opulence. Built around a breathtaking framework of pulsing drum and cavernous effects, New Ruin strides airwaves like a gargantuan, massive in both sound and ambition. Carry on like this and Meursault could be frightening.

Girl Named Hello - Of Montreal

Let’s face it Of Montreal are a band made for fornication. Wriggling, pulsing, scratching, writhing, they frequently hit the G-spot of unbridled aural thrills. Girl Named Hello is no different. Trembling like the knees of an ageing sex pest in a backstreet brothel, this slickly coined dancefloor shuffler finds Kevin Barnes in curiously reflective mood. Sure, “If I treated someone else the way I treat myself, I’d be in jail” my not be the most intellectually stimulating line you’ve heard this year, but fed by a gyrating thrust of ass-slapping bass it’s probably the sexiest.

The Wrong Car – Twilight Sad

Where this came from, who knows. If Forget The Night Ahead was an unfocused affair, then these seven minutes see The Twilight Sad re-honing their lens with bombastic aplomb. The thing its, it’s not a new formula; Andy Macfarlane’s glum-pussed guitar still brawls alongside James Graham’s inimitable crow. But instead of churning out the same cave-friendly tumult of 14 Autumns…, this is a driving, seething affair that lacerates your synapses like a Buckfast-swilling barber.

Mexico Wax Solvent – The Fall

Led by the festering oscillations of 2010’s dirtiest guitar riff, this violent urban fuck of a track bears its teeth with typical Mark E Smith rabidity. The stand out on this year’s remarkable Our Future Your Clutter, Mexico Wax Solvent is the most obviously polished gem in the album’s cliff face of jagged, knuckle grating cuts. Not that it’s done The Fall any chart favours, mind; with Smith maniacally quavering about barbiturates, making rice with screwdrivers and governmental coups it was never likely to chime with the lightweight swarms. Still, this is one of the most exalting thumps of industrial post-punk clatter to detonate its way through my speakers in years.