Goat/Teeth of The
- 27 June 2013
"A balaclava-wearing, bare-bellied, tom-tom player sat front of stage for the entire set"
were originally booked for the Scala, but due to the almost universal
critical acclaim for their debut album World Music the
venue was upscaled to the Electric Ballroom, which then sold out too.
If you are unfamiliar, they sound like they dropped through a hole in
the sky from the height of Sixties psychedelia warped through Seventies
Prog. Even the production sounds from another era.
Expecting a crowd, the venue was remarkably empty at the beginning of Teeth Of The Sea's set.
A shame for those who missed it, as the scattering of people in
attendance were treated to a highly accomplished set of full on
progressive space rock. Long, building, rhythmic tracks given time for
their tendrils to explore the room with budding synth and effects,
before flowering into bursts of intricate guitar.
They were a wonderfully unexpected treat to be repeated at the earliest
Anticipation grew and the room filled out for Goat's entrance. Various
masked and berobed band members filed onstage taking their appointed
spots for the rituals to commence.
As with the attention to detail on their album, the lighting, costumes
and stage all invoked a sense of something not of 2013. The predominant
golds and reds combined with a little dry ice and stark white lights
pointed at the audience, gave a shimmer and haze to the performance,
but also creating many shadows to reflect the darker tinges to the
As soon as the tribalistic rhythms started the vocal duo darted around
the whole stage whilst the rest of the band remained static. This
continued for the whole performance, underworld nymphs in Eastern masks
and other ethnic clothing intent on getting the party started.
Complementing the standard drum kit, a balaclava-wearing,
bare-bellied, tom-tom player sat prominently front of stage for the
entirety of the set. Providing the dominant underpinning sound. His
sparse costume with what appeared to be bones woven into it and the
intimidating headwear also complimented the darker aspects of the
Diarabi, Golden Dawn
and Disco Fever
all flew by in a heady fuzz, stomp and flail, the ritualistic
rhythms and wah wah glide perforated by often quite harsh vocal
stabs, pushing the urgency of the rhythmns still further. Rather than
reaching crescendos, most of the tracks keep a constant pounding flow
interrupted briefly between tracks, the peak only really coming at the
end of the whole set. Which, after most of the album being played came
with Det Som
No respite, as the encore closely followed with the pacey The Sun The Moon,
invoking one of the singers to run on the spot for most of the track.
Then it was truly over. Audience left sweating and wanting