Music / Review
Review: The Moonlandingz, Thekla
Some rather excitable people have been suggesting that tonight’s headliners had been cynically and massively hyped – true dat or just more Metropolitan social media junky bollocks, envious of a genuine grass roots word of mouth phenomena achieving success without their permission? A sold out Thekla had the chance to find out after a gloriously sunny day and a support set from Goat Girl. The best thing about their set was the band made absolutely no effort to resort to support act clichés and seek the approval of the crowd in that needy way which never fails to embarrass band and punters alike. So rather than harvesting cheap applause by name checking the headliners or trying to ingratiate by praising our (officially fabulous) city or (sweet Jebus no) making a hash of impersonating our dulcet accent, the band simply let their music do the talking.
The other best thing about the support set was just how refreshingly different the music was, sure plenty of reference points: pounding tribal drumming (free from hackneyed fills & rolls); shimmering lead guitar (free from gurning foot on the monitor look at me showboating); irregular but on tempo rhythm guitar (free from unnecessary complexity: simple but not simplistic) and a funked up bass groove (free from lead guitar envy complex but assertive nonetheless). Oh and marvellously deadpan don’t give a fuck vocals but with some sneaky pop harmonies in the mix. The songs were structurally challenging but totally engaging, crazed Trumpton meets post punk waltz type things morphing in to hefty slabs of noise and the set rammed with slippery unconventional constructions. There were no easy to get choruses and the tunes were all the better for it, music pushing the listener to really listen rather than just pay ear service to a pretty melody or hackneyed stab at memorability. The other, other best thing about the support set was Goat Girl proved it’s still possible to get two guitars, a bass and drum kit on stage and deliver something new and invigorating, the antithesis of all the threadbare guitar bands trying to be the next <insert crossover indie guitar band name from your demographic here>.
The raucous crowd took to the Goat Girl vibe instantly, with a ton of movement and vocal support although one fella seemed to have totally missed the point of the band when he shouted out “You’re all gorgeous…will you go out with me please” (actually, he also missed the point of the whole 21st century with a crass comment like that surely?). By the time The Moonlandingz took to the stage the crowd was at fever pitch, suitably well-oiled and leery as fuck, especially the totally refreshed dude in the sequined hoody. Johnny Rocket & co took to the stage after ominous walk on music that sounded like a Metallica vocal track played backwards in an effort to summon Cthulhu. As the band plugged in he proceeded to mount the barrier and spray the front row with sugar, showing reckless disregard for government warnings about the effect of sugar on young ‘uns.
is needed now More than ever
As for the hype, well a band as good as this lot needs no hype because to be honest they slaughtered the Thekla, taking the tunes from the debut LP and giving them a right filthy aural seeing-to as the crowd went from fever pitch to apeshit crazy before the first chorus. They were ferociously tight – death disco glam band stomp with bass by Godzilla and insouciantly heavy, heavy guitar – riffs pounded out but nimble rather than plodding and topped off with weird computer-synthesiser-sampled-oscilloscope-shit (technical term) all topped off with mesmerising dual vox from Rocket and Rebecca Taylor (out of Slow Club). There’s no doubt that Rocket is a captivating front man but Taylor pushed him throughout the set, vocally superb – harmonising, swapping leads and howling like a banshee when needed. She has a stunning stage presence too, sultry and sensual, oozing more carefree carnality than a limo full of twerking D list celebrities Instagramming their hooters to the world in a vain attempt to project a twisted notion of empowered yet sexy femininity.
Knockout single Black Hanz was delivered early inducing a frantic pit, with arms flailing and crazed singing, IDS was received with rapture but there was no let up from crowd or band throughout the set. The sugar flinging continued, Rocket molested the keyboards and he and Taylor entwined themselves around each other as they traded vocals throughout a set that was over too soon.
Despite the walk off music booming across the PA the crowd were not gonna be leaving without an encore and after several minutes of baying, whistling, wailing and (to be frank) yelping. Rocket, acoustic in hand returned to the stage with his green lipped ERC accomplice. Sharing the mic and over a softly strummed selection of, um, unusual chords the duo treated the crowd to an untitled ditty (presumably work in progress for the next album), with the memorable chorus of “The show’s over now fuck off”. Considering the origins of the band, those involved have created something rather special, an unholy melange of mid-seventies Calvert era Hawkwind and the Glitter Band laid over a motorik beat to soundtrack a deranged disco as the world is seemingly plunging in to chaos. If the band are back anytime soon don’t bet against them selling out the O2 – get the record and join them in the Glory Hole. You know you want to, you know you need to.
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