We Were Promised Jetpacks slope on to an expectant crowd, buoyed by the release of the Scottish fourpiece’s fantastically received first album These Four Walls.  They do not fail to disappoint-
their ear bursting post-rock blasts out the speakers throughout the duration, and though the band do not move about during the songs they are an engaging, fresh faced bunch.  Lead singer Adam
Thompson comes across as a rather cheeky young scamp, announcing (off mic) before recent single ‘Quiet Little Voices’ that ‘this is our only good song’to appreciative titters from a rather beard-strokey crowd who know that this is far from the case.

     
He actually moves away from the microphone to sing several times; whether or not this is deliberate is unclear, but it works well visually, and his deep Scottish tones penetrate the space between mouth and mic.  Melodies push things along throughout, and riffs designed for head bobbing keep the pace.  A great gig it is, even for a
relative newcomer.  Big things beckon....


Jetpacks might have been a somewhat new sound to these ears, but Fat Cat labelmates  The Twilight Sad were a complete leap into the unknown. And what a leap because without knowing anything about them, without knowing a single chord to any of their songs, I left the ICA truly, physically exhilarated by what was observed.


A wall of sound descends from the start, a swirling dark barrage of beautiful chaos that enthralled all those privileged to observe it.  Quite how this 5 piece go about creating this epic din is beyond, but it is constant, unrelenting and designed to suck you in, to hallucinate the senses.


During gigs it helps to make a few notes on the ol’ phone so as to jog the memory when the booze has faded and a review is needed; with this gig there were no notes, no thoughts, no snatches of lyrics to help identify a song at a later date.  No need.  For an hour, or however
long it was, I was still, rooted , swaying on the spot entirely entranced by what was going on in front and around. 


All too often people slip into cliche’s when describing live music- ‘a
removal of self’, ‘a different world’ blah blah blah- but The Twilight Sad
really did deliver a performance to necessitate the use of each of these
well-worn phrases. Surprising perhaps when you consider that the band as a whole are pretty unremarkable with some looking  like they’d rather  befixing punctures, but this is rendered totally irrelevant by the performance of lead James Graham who doesn’t just live his lyrics, doesn’t just breathe them, but exudes them.  They are him.  It’s astounding to watch; he's like Tom Meighan without the big-boy swagger.  At times he just comes out to the front of stage, silent while the band play, and stares into space, his hands across his chest.  Fuck
knows what he’s thinking, but it is quite thrilling to observe.   Who knew a man doing nothing on a stage surrounded by reverb  could be so scintillating?


So, yes, The Twilight Sad.  Truly a wonderful revelation.

Posted In Live Reviews, Jul 21 2009. Words - David