twothirtytwo / Parachute For Gordo / Katie Malco / Midfield Workhorse [Live Review – The Boileroom, 9/9/14]
This show was special.
Rough-edged geek rock complete with pitch-shifted melodies, galloping riffs à la Muse, a band unafraid to rock the fuck out, and a guitar with a picture of a zebra taped to it. If that doesn’t sound incredible to you, seek help.
Sticking a lone singer-songwriter between two hard-rocking bands can be a risky proposition. It’s a lot of pressure, requiring nerves of steel and something special to keep the attention of impatient punters.
With an upside-down guitar facilitating fascinatingly inventive chord voicings, and a mastery of deep and soulful dynamics as well as lush and passionate songs, Katie Malco is that something special. Quirky and original yet accessible and appealing, this set was crammed with the kind of creativity required to stand head and shoulders above the competition in a beyond-oversaturated genre.
Parachute For Gordo
Are…well…Parachute For Gordo. I’ve previously said that being in Parachute For Gordo sounds so fun that I’ve added it to my list of things I want to do when I grow up – and having now seen these guys live, I still stand by that statement.
The happiest bassist alive, a drummer glad to take a break from beating the skin to get in the crowd and feed shots to willing punters, and a series of off-kilter pieces culminating in the epic Labrasaga all added up to the perfect PFG experience. If you’re on the fence about peeling yourself away from Come Dine With Me next time Parachute For Gordo are in town, do it. You’ll be glad you made that choice.
Twothirtytwo have risen in my estimations faster than any other band, ever. From an iffy demo to a badass EP (read more about that here) to this absolutely spellbinding blinder of a live set, it just goes to show that giving the finger to instant gratification can reward you in completely unpredictable ways.
Twothirtytwo are so pissed off and full of pent-up frustration that they’re definitely from Aldershot. Live, they’re all about unrestrained catharsis, offering a frontman shaking so furiously that you’d expect him to spontaneously combust at any moment; instrumentalists punching out walls of sound under appropriately Hulk-coloured strobes; and a set-closing climax during which an audience member wound up wearing a bass guitar while its owner dragged a floor tom into the crowd for a beating so fierce that you’d think it had fucked his wife.
Overall, this was the most hyperactive Boileroom show since Marmozets and Drones played last month. Applause was received, and very much deserved. I don’t know how twothirtytwo plan on topping this, but I plan on being around when it happens.
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