Esser / Micachu & The Shapes / Ou est le Swimming Pool
Date: 14 October 2008
A performance to make the audience want to put Esser in a real headlock.
Brendan Simpson & Alan Bernard Morgan
I had never heard of the first band on the bill prior to this evening's performance, and I doubt many others had either. That said, I can safely say this wasn't an error of judgment on my behalf or the rest of the audience; this band were simply awful and ergo have never come to any real fruition. Ou est le Swimming Pool can only be excused because of their relative newness to the game, but I personally see no longevity in this three piece. They clearly have a raw energy on stage that makes for an exciting show, but you can't help but feel this papers over the cracks of the music that is lacking any real substance. Clearly sounding like contemporaries Metronomy and XX Teens, they end up with a mish mash of frantic songs, yet end up sounding like a peculiar mix of Goldie Looking Chain and Towers of London. Songs such as Fake Left and The Alphabet song get the crowd going accordingly, but this band and venue just don't click tonight. Saying that, they are probably the sort of act that will receive messianic status this time next year... just you wait.
Micachu is headed by a classically trained musician, a woman whose tutelage began at a young age. When you see her on stage in her vagabond chic, looking uncomfortable and playing a toy guitar you could easily be excused for assuming that this was not what her classical tutors had envisaged while teaching her the delicate string plucking required for that classical sound. This is where we must show some gratitude because their loss is most certainly our gain. There was no hint of a concerto around here, although there was an indicator to her past in a delightful tendency for crescendo ion a lot of the songs. The audience were treated to some real-life innovation here, with the various mini guitars and a devilishly cunning use of the synth. One song sounded like an apocalyptic grange hill theme tune, but there was always a furtive, melancholy undertone present. This told us that it wasn't just smashing together big sounds but a great deal of care had gone in to this soundtrack of melodic destruction. At one point the music had taken on an aura of demented rockabilly and there seemed to be a helpful tendency to find an infectious beat.
The downfall (alas, there must always be one), as slight as it was, became the horrible notion that too much experimentation can be a bad thing. Not in the sense that the sound was the same but the nature of it; you could say it was a case of familiarity breeds contempt, and nearing the end some of the noise was bordering on the tiresome. However, the set ended just as this started to become apparent and there certainly wasn't any real contempt floating around the room afterwards because Micachu excited with her new sound and left us hotly anticipating what is to come next.
Transgressive have been tirelessly championing Ben Esser as their latest fetish over the past few weeks and the young man from Essex, with an act of the same name, seems to be on an inevitable course towards success. It was with these thoughts that the audience descended upon London's premier venue for the outlet of the contemporary arts. The same audience left with a sense of being teased by an act that didn't do exactly what it said on the tin. His can be a positive thing for the most part but it here it just held disappointment and there was an air of anti-climax lingering amongst the viewers afterwards. The set was hampered by sound issues throughout; at times the vocals could barely even be detected, let alone heard. Feedback is not a pleasant substitute for lyrics and Ben was obviously not best pleased. Then he admitted to not turning up for his sound check and any feeling of sympathy soon dried up.
Hit and miss would be a clichéd description although it is hard to find a more fitting summation. The opening song sounded like a Kaiser Chiefs playground ditty, it was formulaic in melody and beat that gave it a condescending tone. This seemed to be the pattern for when the material went wrong; at times it came across like a new-age CBBC soundtrack and lacked any real depth. At one point it felt like the Ting Tings were orchestrating; whether that is good or bad I leave to the judgment of the individual.
That is not to say that there wasn't some real talent on show and this may just have been a case of Esser having one of those nights. The next single, Satisfied, injected some much needed life into the crowd, with its Russian gypsy overtones and mid 80s ska reggae inflections. This brand of electro pop, although uninspiring, is undeniably catchy and that is half the battle when trying to make your way in the harsh plains of musical popularity.
Finishing up with the last single Headlock was a shrewd move considering the way the set had previously panned out. It served to regain Esser some credibility with its infectious bushwhacking beat that had nods to LCD Soundsystem and even the Pet Shop Boys. The hypnotic value of Headlock's bendy chorus did much to erase the erratic and mostly unsuccessful nature of the set but it led us to believe that Ben need only turn up to his sound checks for us to really appreciate an undeniable appeal to groove.
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