Characters: that’s what bands seem to be lacking in a bit these days; particularly in this apparent new resurgence of shoegaze that’s engulfing Britain like a thick fog from American shores.Peering through the mist it’s hard to make out the purveyors of this dreamy, sonically-enhanced atmosphere that’s starting to settle over venues nationwide. Deerhunter however have characters; and I’m not just talking about Bradford Cox here, although his presence on stage is understandably pronounced; the pivot that the rest of the band turns on. No; what I mean is that the four members who provide the make up of the Atlanta four-piece hold themselves in such contrasting ways on stage that you can almost see their personalities shine through in performance.
First, obviously, there’s Cox. Physical appearance aside, he can fill a stage like few others; not least because he envelopes every part of it in twisted, blossoming vines of looped vocal, delay effects and droning distortion. It’s the way he seems to take command of the sandstorm of noise that starts to whip up around him right from ‘Cryptograms’ introductory myriad of complex atmospherics; not letting up until some fifteen minutes later with the tight, punchy, 60’s-tinged ‘Wash Off’. It’s as though every little nuance from the tall front man triggers a slight change in the stitching style of this tapestry of noise. But let’s compare guitarist Lockett Pundt. He doesn’t face the audience once. Eyes glued to his guitar and facing his amp, Pundt is a picture of juxtaposition: where the outgoing singer faces the audience, spreading his fuzzy-edged melodies and swirls of sound out to encompass every single person in the room, the Lotus Plaza man uses it as a refuge to hide under. By wrapping himself up in his blanket of amplification, Pundt manages like Cox to interlock with the music, yet at the same time in a very different way.
Different too are bassist Josh Fauver and drummer Colin Mee; different from each other and different again to the rest of the band. The energy tonight seems to pinball from Cox out to a rapt audience, and back onto Fauver; who in turn feeds off it to propel himself headlong through the set. He rarely stays still, and when poppier songs such as the increasingly anthemic ‘Nothing Ever Happened’ or the relatively straight bat of ‘Never Stops’ hit, his fire seems to join in sync with the music and a huge grin spreads across his face. It’s quite at odds with Lockett Pundt, who stands statically across the stage from him. Mee meanwhile is as stoical and dead pan as his percussion: it fades in and out, twisting through the cavernous sound subtly, yet present enough to drive the set through from song to song. Truly, few bands have ever seemed so apart and yet so together on stage.
And it works, how it works. In the past Deerhunter seem to have been treated as a mixed bag of a live act; sometimes wonderful, sometimes distinctly detached and flat. Tonight must be one of the well put-together bags because the group leave a trail of highlights in a set of staggeringly consistent highs. From the aforementioned introduction to ‘Cryptograms’ that falls from the sky like a cloak over the audience, through to the expansive ‘Flourescent Grey’ which somehow manages to make the venue seem gigantic beyond its four hundred or so capacity; and finally the euphoric ‘Strange Lights’ which leaves the crowd with ringing in the ears to go with the memories they’ll never forget. It’s all done with a warmth that hasn’t always translated on record, and which tonight manages to provide the ballast for a set that at times was all set to drift off up into the sky. Getting audience members onstage at the end to play their instruments is silly but fun; because for the last hour or so Deerhunter have made the Deaf Institute seem like a vast cave of expanse; yet by the end it they’ve managed to bring everyone closer together. A tribute to the music and the people playing it.
Deerhunter: 8/10
