Report: The Basement Club #17, April 2004
By: Toby L, Ed Harcourt
At long last. Some heavy metal. In The Basement Club.
Yes, upon immediate arrival, you could just smell the sheer grease of long, mangy locks of rock-hair. Winnebago Deal were in the house, alright.
But, before all that... The second Basement appearance from the Raphael-produced noise-chaos-bliss beauties themselves, Satellites. Over from Mallorca once more for a showcasing of their hurtling, yearning, melodic inclinings, they devastate us with a visceral, aural panache and skill to bewilder/enchant. Songs from a forthcoming, debut UK album-release - namely the epic churnings of 'The Iron Ship' - nestle alongside the epic closure of 'Come Shining' and a frantic, manic 'In Another World' - a spiralling, psychedelic masterpiece that leaves roars for more. With just cause.
Then: a buzz-sensation, the studious college-rock beefiness of Aussie newcomers, Neon. The room is packed tightly to witness the second ever London exhibition of the hype-o quartet, and a show compiling the crunching-pop debut-single 'A Man', warming ballad 'Friend', plus whirling, epic, growling closer 'Everything'. For a band so young, it's a fierce display. And the flutter of record-label A&R chequebooks was enough to spawn a much-needed, minor breeze into the intensely heated premises.
But carve out your devil-horns; dye your T-shirt black; and begin the non-ironic head-banging and air-guitar in earnest - for WD are finally with us. Two men, a guitar/bass-amp, a six-string, a drumkit, and a hoarse-vocal - that's all you need.
Oh, and a series of spine-crushing, head-pulping, relentless noisecore anthems - bloody hell, come the time we've blistered through to a sing-along 'Manhunt', the audience are doing the bellows themselves. 'HUNT IT DOWN... HUNT IT DOWN!' Yiiiiiiiiikes. We've just positively soiled our pants. The loudest thing we've ever served, and by the smallest ensemble to boot. Our pleasure.
Then a DJ-ing display from the fresh-via-Radio-One Zane Lowe, who spins us some House Of Pain, and hits of yore; and the room goes wild. Come his being kicked off the decks 45 minutes later by regulars Beamon 65 & The Hellion, we get homemade/rare bootleg-remixes, and some sterling modern-indie action (and the third play in the same evening of that blindin' new Streets single). Insatiable, and more demonic than ever, we stay 'til an unholy 2:15am, by which time many attendees, inclusive of bands, are organising a spontaneous 'post-club' house-party. Aww. We wouldn't have had it any other way.