Kasabian - Hamburg Club Logo - 26/10/04
4/5
By: Andy Willson
Better start this one with an apology, from the heart. In my previous review, I suggested that the unsung hero of the hour is Rick, the faithful Kasabian assistant who mends and tunes battered instruments, but after meeting him, I certainly exaggerated by suggesting he was at least 70. Try nearer a pushing-it 69.
I'm sure we've all been there at one time or other in our lives. You know, when one of your favourite bands is playing down the road soon, and you wait and wait to buy tickets for it, until you get finally get around to it, and they're all gone. God, you bastard. Next step, Ebay, and when £80 a ticket looks a tad steep, it's down to sobbing uncontrollably, or conjuring up Plan B.
The rockfeedback crew have an ace up their sleeve and via Ryanair, descend to Hamburg en mass to witness Kasabian flying the flag abroad. A chance to see how it's done on foreign soil, but better than that, getting to swap flat Carling for some traditional German loopy juice; get in there.
We arrive at the venue, Club Logo, two hours before the gig starts (when in Germany, eh? Do as they do... always efficient) to find the band mid-soundcheck and, being the only punters there, we take our seats and make as much noise as we possibly can. Once over, singer Tom Meighan leaps from the stage and is completely bewildered that people have travelled from the UK to catch their racket. How different to the often portrayed arrogant tosser you'd expect if you believe all you read, but you can take it from us, he's far from that; most unassuming. Next we meet up with some others who've travelled over from the Midlands; their idea of a joke is bringing a huge Nottingham Forest flag, just to tease the boys a little (Kasabian are Leicester City boys; ouch).
Scene set, now get on with it.
So how better to open a gig in Germany than with 'This one's for the Krauts!!', as a fully blown 'ID' shakes the club's very foundations. There are a few puzzled faces in the crowd, but it only takes a couple of numbers to change all that, and an exceptionally lofty German starts swaying to the beat. It's no different in Germany; there's always some bastard taller than you and he always stands in front of you.
'Reason Is Treason' is in hot pursuit, and the ferocity snarls through us like a rabid werewolf. The coolest-looking man in rock, guitarist Christopher Karloff hugs the far
side of the stage, but is barely visible through the choking swirls of smoke being pumped onto the stage. Two new(-ish) tracks are present tonight, 'Nightworker' and '55', the latter proffering a darker, meaner edge to these Leicester scamps, proving that there's more subversive pop compulsion due yet from this camp.
And, relevantly, the nature of Kasabian's influences has been discussed since 'Processed Beats' first landed, and you can't help imagining that you're watching a Primal Scream/Radiohead/Oasis supergroup. Conclusively, there is a finer edge to the sound than such timid namechecking, and Tom's rasping, incensed vocals provide the definitive edge. 'LSF' steals the show tonight and gets a suitably rousing cheer, dedicated to those that have made the effort to get there from Blighty.
Sadly missing, but quite understandable seeing we're in Germany, is 'U Boat', where lead-guitarist Serge mixes up the vocal duties, but an impeccable rendition of final track 'Club Foot' more than compensates. The room wasn't quite full, but for a band that hasn't released anything in this country, it's a valiant turn-out. If rumours are to be believed, the gates to their legendary farmhouse hideaway have been firmly shut and Kasabian are finally unleashed on an unsuspecting world. You have been notified.
Artists in this article: Kasabian
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