The Long Lost at Barden's Boudoir

The Long Lost at Barden's Boudoir

20 March, 2009
by: Joshua28

The Long Lost are performing at Barden's Boudoir, and I blackmailed my way out of a work shift to see them. Their self-titled album was one of those perfectly crafted pieces of acoustic atmospheric awe that make you do stupid things like declare 2009 the best year for music, ever.

Husband-and-wife team Laura and Alfred Darlington gel subtle countryside folk with breakbeat electronica to produce something pretty unbelievable; like the soundtrack to your favourite indie foreign language movie, possibly a French one. So yeah, I'm excited. But also nervous. How many albums over the years have been produced to sound like angels in a jam session on record only to come across like two bearded drunks doing open mic at a pub in Angel Islington? I wonder if they can carry their 'magic' across. Or, god forbid, actually transcend it.

The first signs aren't good. One of the speakers keeps 'coughing' like it's about to keel over. Barden's Boudoir is as mood-less and atmosphere-less as possible, like a pub and an empty office space joined forces. Then The Long Lost take the stage. Alfred's wearing a bright blue shirt, black waistcoat and... trainers? Rank-looking trainers at that. His wife looks nervous, but she is better dressed in a long flowing blue dress. She's on flute, he's on guitar. The guitar is better dressed (one of those fancy transparent ones). The violinist doesn't bother to dress up. The guy on laptop doesn't dress up either, but he brought a beard. And long hair.

And then they sing, and it all goes The Empire Strikes Back. It shouldn't succeed, not with everything against it, but dear Mr Jesus, how amazing an amazing be? Laura's almost whispery delivery is bewitching, sweet: sunshine through trees by a countryside lake. Alfred and the violinist provide backing vocals, and some truly captivating sounds. This is quiet, subtle, moving and pleasant in a way many bands tend to mistake for inoffensive bland boredom music. And their lyrics carry that simple but abstract mystery that give a band an extra aura. I feel like I'm at an IMAX remake of Alice in Wonderland. Unfortunately, that blasted speaker keeps coughing through their more danceable song, 'Amiss'. But it's only a slight blemish.

This is the first time I truly feel the end comes too soon for a setlist. I and a long haired death-metal shirt wearing fellow behind me bellow the loudest for an encore. They agree, but they don't have any other songs to perform. So they do the first one, 'The Art of Kissing', again. Applause. Hollers. I'm buzzing like I've just seen Haley's comet, or an angelic version of Naomi Campbell has asked me over to hers for 'milkshake'. Yes to them, yes to great music.

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Joshua28