Local Natives are a pretty heart-warming experience, and that's not just the rum talking
On a mid-December night when the air is so cold and thick that occasional rain looks like falling dandruff, it was always going to take something special to dispel plausible bouts of Scroogist social-inertia. Fortunately, last night's Sailor Jerry Presents... at the Camden Barfly was just that.
After settling into the tenor of the night with a Jerry's and ginger, I only catch opener, Dimbleby & Capper's last song. As her drummer's kick drum and double bassist's thick, distorted notes warble in the air, shaking the floorboards and pleasing the crowd, the band are bathed in blue light which combines nicely with the Norman Collins tattoo art projecting across the walls and spiced rum warming the cockles. I’m expecting a night of nautically themed good vibes upstairs in the Barfly den tonight.
But with the Bridport Dagger up next, my naïve prediction gets a good, hard punch in the face. The London based three-piece have as aggressive a stage presence as their biting roadhouse tunes. It's actually impressive how big their sound is, when their line-up consists of only drums and guitars.
Playing hard, fast and organised and clinically tight, their sonic appeal was stitched together by singer Jason's Roy Orbison-like delivery. However as their set rages on, there is something that doesn’t ride well with the audience; something about them that just doesn’t click.
Their sound is tightly bound, yes, but the performance comes out like three individuals disconnected from the whole. When lead guitarist- Lawrence- asks the audience to cheer Local Natives in thank for asking them to play support, a disenchanted reply reaches him as, "the weakest woo I've ever heard." Maybe we just don't quite believe their performance.
The same can't be said for headlining act, the Local Natives, whose stirring confidence comes with an inclination to modesty. The Californian 5-piece has ridden a wave of buzz from blogs and critics ever since their rapturous appearance at last summer's SXSW festival in Texas. It's impressive to see how influential blogs have become on a music audience, as their already ubiquitous track- not even released as a single yet- 'Airplanes' receives an ample holler from the crowd: Oh, yes. We're awake, ratty Mr. Dagger. Consider your truculence served.
The musicianship of the Local Natives is compelling. With no clear front man, the standing members constantly interchange positions and instruments. At times you feel sorry for the drummer. Not only is he the only static performer, his beats often disappear under the reaffirming floor tom and cymbal that sits at the front of the stage; an apparently all-too-provocative sight for the other Natives not to ignore. It does create a good effect- the tight pish of cymbals before the breakdown sends shivers down my spine; but I can't help wondering whether the tactic is a lttltle over-subscribed. Once given license to rein free, drummer Matt Frazier throws in more interesting beats that lay a clever backdrop, and spice up the Local Natives song-structure.
Unlike the Bridport Dagger, the Local Natives are not a band who struggle with detached performance. So entwined are they in their music, that when the band members aren't asserting enchanted Fleet Foxes/Fleetwood Mac style vocal harmonies they mime off-mic with the lyrics. Everything works to augment the whole. Flattering the audience with such dedication to their art, the crowd bellows a choking level of applause.
With a snug miniature of Sailor Jerry's given as souvenir and a warm burst of affirming vocal-indie-rock setting you out on your way; a December night's bark proves worst than its bite.
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