Post by Fuggle on Sept 8, 2006 16:40:46 GMT -5
The Sunshine Underground
Cargo, London
Caroline Sullivan
Friday September 8, 2006
The Guardian
The rules at a Sunshine Underground show, says their guitarist, Stuart Jones, are: "Get sweaty, get involved". As if there's a choice. Sweatiness is a given - shoehorning several hundred people into a railway arch chamber has that effect - and involvement follows in the form of what crowd-control experts call "lateral sway". In other words, a few minutes' exposure to the Leeds-based band's frenetic rave-rock seems to compel people to lurch from side to side, some waving green glowsticks. It would probably look impressive photographed from above.
The 18-month-old Sunshine Underground rarely avoid comparisons with New York's Rapture, whose propensity for shuddering rhythms and yelpy vocals they share. But it's the memory of John Lydon's post-punk groundbreakers Public Image Limited that seems to be propelling them along tonight.
Jones and second guitarist/singer Craig Wellington carve a path with spiteful, industrial jabs, and Daley Smith and Matthew Gwilt maintain a buzzy pulse on bass and drums, making a sound that is as confrontational as punk, but as compelling as funk. Wellington's carping vocals, pitched to sound like a 14-year-old arguing with mum about staying out late, are the icing. All that's missing is Lydonesque charisma. Even without it, they transport the audience to a damp frenzy. More glowsticks come out during the single Commercial Break - played twice, perhaps because it's got more of a tune than the rest - and the venue turns into an indoor version of the recently re-excavated rave scene.
According to reports of their Reading and Leeds shows, the Sunshine Underground are a natural festival outfit, and you can see why: Wellington's indecipherable wails and the thrumming percussive undertow, augmented by Jones's occasional turn on mini-drums, are made to be heard in a space unconstrained by walls and roof. Their debut album, Raise the Alarm, played almost in full here, must sound absolutely monstrous outdoors.
ยท At Bestival, Isle of Wight, tonight. Box office: 08700 667753.
Cargo, London
Caroline Sullivan
Friday September 8, 2006
The Guardian
The rules at a Sunshine Underground show, says their guitarist, Stuart Jones, are: "Get sweaty, get involved". As if there's a choice. Sweatiness is a given - shoehorning several hundred people into a railway arch chamber has that effect - and involvement follows in the form of what crowd-control experts call "lateral sway". In other words, a few minutes' exposure to the Leeds-based band's frenetic rave-rock seems to compel people to lurch from side to side, some waving green glowsticks. It would probably look impressive photographed from above.
The 18-month-old Sunshine Underground rarely avoid comparisons with New York's Rapture, whose propensity for shuddering rhythms and yelpy vocals they share. But it's the memory of John Lydon's post-punk groundbreakers Public Image Limited that seems to be propelling them along tonight.
Jones and second guitarist/singer Craig Wellington carve a path with spiteful, industrial jabs, and Daley Smith and Matthew Gwilt maintain a buzzy pulse on bass and drums, making a sound that is as confrontational as punk, but as compelling as funk. Wellington's carping vocals, pitched to sound like a 14-year-old arguing with mum about staying out late, are the icing. All that's missing is Lydonesque charisma. Even without it, they transport the audience to a damp frenzy. More glowsticks come out during the single Commercial Break - played twice, perhaps because it's got more of a tune than the rest - and the venue turns into an indoor version of the recently re-excavated rave scene.
According to reports of their Reading and Leeds shows, the Sunshine Underground are a natural festival outfit, and you can see why: Wellington's indecipherable wails and the thrumming percussive undertow, augmented by Jones's occasional turn on mini-drums, are made to be heard in a space unconstrained by walls and roof. Their debut album, Raise the Alarm, played almost in full here, must sound absolutely monstrous outdoors.
ยท At Bestival, Isle of Wight, tonight. Box office: 08700 667753.