Yeah Yeah Yeahs / Har Mar Superstar / The Stills - Oxford Zodiac - 2/3/02
4/5
By: Toby L
Rising faster than their surrounding regular fixtures, NYC's Yeah Yeah Yeahs make for the spring's hottest tour in the UK, venues sold out well in advance and fans beaming from ear-to-ear at their long-awaited re-arrival to British terrain, after months too long away.
The reason for hysteria? When the resurgence of garage-rock ignited senses once again back all the way in early-2000, little did we know that such obscure and dynamic talent as this would prove the most invigorating and noteworthy of the spin-off breeds; unobvious, complex, yet somehow accessible, topped off with compelling haircuts, the YYYs are the exact, wondrous art-rock haze of innovation that has made legends of yore so iconic in the first place.
First up yet, however, are The Stills: a group so worryingly emblazoned that Kill City, The Thrills, and, er, The Kills must all be running scared at yet another Similar Name Alert. Not to worry - with a sound as ominous, firm and complexly layered as this, there's little to sound alike to the above, the Montreal quintet more of a homage to every great, schizophrenic alt-pop band of the past (so not just another Joy Division tribute-band... Phew), both melodic and enthrallingly hard-edged.
So as outlandish, desperate vocals collide amidst aptly silhouette-inducing lighting and a cascade of shivering guitars and keys, they plague the depths of Radiohead amidst a brooding opener, whilst shimmer us with cymbals in the more traditionally tuneful 'Changes'. With Coxon-esque guitar and a drum-machine like obedience, they prowl to a gritty close in the lurching timbre of 'Let's Roll', altogether attesting an aptitude towards Haunting Rock more than competently. Yes, the initial signs are strong.
'Now give it up for me,' our next performer proclaims, displaying not a hint of modesty. 'I'm f**king amazing.'
Har Mar Superstar is the Ron Jeremy look-alike that has created one of the year's finest party-records in his debut, 'You Can Feel Me'. Live, the result is just as haphazard (he misses cues, plays the wrong backing-track), and oiled-up, Mar defiantly posing to the ladies at the front and shedding an item of clothing after nigh-on every completed, R'n'B-dosed sleaze anthem.
His star is a gleaming one; savagely existing as all the stereotypes that don't constitute US hip-hop, i.e. he's a short, overweight, white, moustache-donning, mock-egotist, HMS represents a political statement as to the narrow conventions and allowances of a socially-definable pop-star... Along the way, magically, he even manages to lay down some admirably stealthy dance-cuts: new single 'Power Lunch' is a delightful, digi-noise treat; 'EZ Pass' is a groove-heavy stormer; 'No Chorus' is a sexed-up joy; and 'HARMAR' is just ironic genius.
Due to the stripped-back nature of the set (literally, too), when the response inevitably lags mid-way, he picks it back up. 'Are you guys still with me or not? If you're not, fear not my brothers and sisters - you will be...' With an act as amusingly sultry, yet melodious, as this, the man probably has a point.
Though compare the reactions to the moment that one Karen*O surfaces on-stage following the entrance of her two boys in the band, impossibly prevailing drummer Brian Chase and one-off, genius guitarist Nick Zinner, and, in spite of prior, fervent entertainment, there's still no contest.
This is a celebration from start to finish, a messy collage of freaky shrieking (the foxy pulse of 'Mystery Girl'), reverb-ridden guitar infernos (their quintessential 'Bang', aired ridiculously early on, or an all-out frenzy of 'Y Control') and classic showmanship (namely *O spitting out mineral-water on to the front rows, or winding us up - sample dialogue: 'We're dedicating this to everyone who loves the Yeah Yeah Yeahs...'). It betters as time progresses, with debut-EP tracks 'Miles Away' and the rightfully-titled 'Our Time' ending both sets, a ragged 'Machine' initiating encore-tracks, and a segue into an audience-member bellowing lyrics word-perfect after Karen reaches towards the barrier and puts the microphone forward. It's punk with balls.
And, aside from those active ones in the midst of the masses, the audience is an attentive one, savouring the performance rather than intent on flailing inanely, and observing the band's calculated produce or stage-savvy motions as if we're witnessing history itself unravel before our eyes. Well, perhaps that's because we are.
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