The Brag

PIKELET, RICHARD IN YOUR MIND, GHOUL, COLLARBONES

There’s a considerable degree of anticipation for Collarbones’ live set, given their impressive singles and recent signing to Two Bright Lakes. The small, appreciative crowd is met with the cerebral electro-pop they’ve come to expect, but it’s a bit quiet. Marcus Whale and Travis Cook bop unselfconsciously and trade personal jokes on stage as though no one else is there, addressing the audience only sporadically. Over the coda of a particularly beautiful piece, Whale assaults the audience with an impassioned rant about the decline of J-Lo’s output. Later, he is embarrassed as he introduces a Justin Bieber cover, explaining it’s a joke that he’s anxious no-one will get – it turns about to be disarmingly lovely. The audience applauds, bemused.

Ghoul is impressive. Their drummer merges his stickwork seamlessly with electronic percussion without headphones, like a fledgling Phil Selway. The band is utterly cohesive like a well-oiled machine, assembling articulate, modern guitar pop with alacrity. Thankfully, their use of samples isn’t intrusive, instead lending wry ornament to subtly eastern-tinged tunes.

It’s been said that Pikelet’s ‘full band’ show lacks the glow of the sheer invention she can swindle on her own. For those that haven’t seen her solo before, this is very hard to believe. There seems to be many more layers in this playful and consummate art-pop than the four people on stage could possibly be capable of creating – even with guitar, bass, woodwind, keys and loop pedals.

If it weren’t for the sheer conviction with which Richard In Your Mind take the stage, Pikelet might’ve stolen the show tonight. RIYM started as a psych-novelty, but now they seem to have morphed into a swaggering rock-band. The trippy sensibility pervades – thanks in no small part to synth squiggles and samples courtesy of Spod – but it’s more pragmatic, less indulgent. It’s all about the songs now, and they’re not afraid to meddle a little with the originals. ‘Make It Chill’ trades breezy glow-fi for ominous menace; acoustic sparkler ‘New Sun’ is hammered out so emphatically it almost threatens to trip over itself. They close the incandescent set with a brilliant percussion and harmonica blues rant, reminiscent of Captain Beefheart at his most primal.

Luke Telford