CityLife

Deerhunter

TAKE ME TO THE MATINEE: Deerhunter

IF pop eats itself, it has certainly acquired a taste for the '80s over the last few years.

From the Mystery Jets putting out singles in homage to the decade (‘Two Doors Down’) to M83 doing the same with entire albums (‘Saturdays = Youth’), you’d be forgiven for turning on the TV and expecting to be bombarded by shoulder pads and rolled up jacket sleeves. 
 
Come to think of it, you’d be hard pushed to avoid it if ‘Ashes to Ashes’ is on.
 
What’s interesting, though, is that it’s not just the mainstream '80s styles that are influencing our modern musicians.

The most talked about album of the moment – The Horrors’ ‘Primary Colours’ – sees one of the most ridiculously over-hyped ugly ducklings of the ‘noughties’ blossoming into a glorious, shoegazing swan, aided by Kevin Sheilds’ FX pedals and a love of Rough Trade releases that are probably even older than the band members themselves.

While it’s a thrilling album, it could easily have come out on Creation Records pretty much any time between 1986 and the dawn of Britpop.
 
A similar thing can be said of Deerhunter. You can imagine their swirling, mind-bending noise emerging on a classic '80s imprint like 4AD.
 
Perhaps that’s why they in fact ARE signed to 4AD.
 
Alongside Bon Iver and TV On The Radio, Deerhunter have played a large part in bringing that label back into the spotlight and it’s heart-warming to see such an indie stalwart getting a new lease of life.
 
But while Deerhunter’s music fits well next to their peers, it sits just as comfortably alongside the label’s classic material like the Pixies and Cocteau Twins. Given the influence of late '80s alt-rock on the band’s sound (Sonic Youth and My Bloody Valentine particularly echo through their amps), Deerhunter embody the label’s past, future and present.

Karen O
 
Which brings us to today's show at The Deaf Institute. Karen O of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs once described Deerhunter's live show as a ‘religious experience’ and at points this evening you can totally see what she means. But events are conspiring against the band.

This is a 'matinee' show, the first of two sets they're playing here tonight, which means they hit the stage for the first time at 6pm.

Sunlight pours in from the windows in the ceiling, creating a backdrop far too bright for the group's effects-laden excursions.
 
Meanwhile, the crowd - some of whom have clearly come straight from work, including yours truly - have barely had a chance to settle down and grab a drink.

The combined result is a sense of unease, something singer Bradford Cox picks up on after two songs as he asks everyone "why does this feel so awkward?".
 
Despite the mood, the band is firing on all cylinders. What particularly strikes me is how hard they can rock. Songs I always thought a bit 'wishy washy' on record, like 'Hazel St' and 'Spring Hall Convert', flex impressive muscles on stage and 'Nothing Ever Happens' - the pounding highlight of their set - is nothing short of a tour de force.
 
This power, combined with the group's selection of dizzying vocal and guitar effects, allows them to overcome the unusual atmosphere and knit together a transcendent sound that - if you close your eyes (and click your heels three times) - transports you to a beautifully warped world. 'Octet' in particular swoops and soars so much, you could almost be swept away on its soundwaves.
 
But still, the over-riding feeling tonight is that I've just witnessed one massive soundcheck by a great band rather than a genuine gig.

Deerhunter leave the stage to the sound of a blaring noise loop, lasting about three minutes.

By the time bassist Josh Fauver returns to collect his jacket and turn it off, the remaining audience members seem so bemused by the oddness of this whole 'matinee' thing that they can barely muster up a call for an encore. Predictably, one is not forthcoming.
 
As for the future of pop's diet, judging by the army of people in the audience tonight wearing lumberjack-style checked shirts, grunge and a focus on the '90s could well be next on the menu. Someone tell Chris Cornell. Perhaps it'll spare us more unwanted collaborations with Timbaland.