This weekend I found myself as the happy recipient of a last
minute ticket for a band that I’d heard a whisper of but didn’t know nearly
well enough to know what a live show would be like. I usually like to know a
brief history and at least half of a bands’ back catalogue to not only inform
myself on who exactly I’m watching, but also to know what songs I can afford to
miss when my Red Stripe runs empty.
Clean Bandit were a band introduced to me by my housemate,
and for the first time in a long time I find myself faced with a conundrum –
they’re an act so obscure that I have no point of reference to recommend them.
Usually it’s relatively easily to conjure at least a vague
image of what to expect by comparing what two bands would have birthed said
artist had they copulated – for example London Grammar could easily be the
result of an unprotected fumble between The Eurythmics and The xx. However with
Cambridge-born Clean Bandit, there are not so much two parents but more a rich
back history of cross-breeding more commonly seen in mongrels than in
musicians. You wouldn’t think that electric pop, hints of garage and classic
strings would work well if all sloshed together, but somehow Clean Bandit
manage it.
With a reputation almost as underground as the leaky
seafront venue, I was surprised not only to see a full house but also a support
act that actually held my attention rather than encouraging me to slope off the
smoking area where my housemate is bargaining a roll up from an eighteen year
old. Mausi, a London-based electro-pop outfit, churn out tunes that are irritatingly
catchy and impossible not to dance to. Their energy apparently knows no bounds,
and a post-performance investigation on SoundCloud proves that this positivity
isn’t just limited to live shows; you can hear more of their material here.
After a brief break and a fifteen year old fan faceplanting
the floor, Clean Bandit ascend the stage with barely an introduction and
immediately throw themselves into the show. The band holds no bars during their
performance, combining an almost endless list of influences in a genre broadly
coined as “folktronica”. Clean Bandit perform with the passion and timing that
you’d expect from a band that have been doing this for years, let alone from a fresh-faced
group that look as if they could have just left their first practise session in
a garage in Greenwich after handing in their dissertation.
I find it surprising that NME damply rated their
2013 single Dust Clears as a song
that “gently requests that you shuffle on the dance floor for 10 seconds or so
rather than demand you hit up an all-night rave”. Whilst admittedly I find
their recorded releases a little lacklustre when compared to their live set,
the less-than-enthusiastic reception wasn’t entirely deserved.
Several singles are available through Spotify which I would
recommend to those who have a healthy set of bass amplifying headphones and an
active imagination. A favourite track from the set could possibly be “Wildfire”,
a song with a beat that vibrates the gyrating crowd and doesn’t seem at all out
of place at Digital, a dance den that hosted Disclosure only months before.
As this was the closing night of their recent tour, those
looking to witness Clean Bandit at their genre-bending best may have a
worthwhile wait ahead to see them at their best.
MS
