The Twilight Sad, London The Lexington
The Twilight Sad
August 5, 2009
The Twilight Sad’s 2007 album, Fourteen Autumns and Fifteen Winters, was, and remains, a record that required something of the listener – the lyrics were bleak, James Graham’s vocals veered from a plaintive Scottish mumble to an all-teeth-bared bark, and guitarist Andy MacFarlane carved into the songs with great crescendos of noise. If these waves of sound and emotion washed over a few, they pulled a great many under, and The Twilight Sad have gained, and continue to gain, a devoted following in the UK, and also over in the U.S. Their Lexington gig was the last opportunity to see the band before they head off on an extensive American tour before inevitably returning to play far bigger venues on this side of the Atlantic.
Before all that however, there was Magic and Fur. Brought in as late replacements for Factory Floor, the six-piece managed to impress in the support slot. Led by singer Christopher Wilde, the largely suited band cam across like a less angry Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds, complete with literate lyrics. At times the set was a little one paced and their perhaps weren’t enough clear stand out moments, but overall it was a solid set from a band brought in at the last minute.
Lack of stand out moments, however, was not a problem for The Twilight Sad. Opening with second album taster ‘Reflection of the Television’, with its opening layer of feedback that sounds a bit like a TV without a reception, the band quickly hit their stride. The drums and bass pounded and rumbled, before James Graham’s now familiar ‘There’s people downstairs…’ lines. They’ve retained the air of menace that permeated their debut album, the sense of claustrophobia of living in homes on the outskirts of cities. There’s a greater variation to their sound now – whereas before the band might have been happy to let the effects pedal do the talking, this is a more subtle, controlled kind of approach. But thankfully, its still as noisy as hell.
New and old songs rubbed shoulders all night. The promise of familiarity carried the audience through the new material and the show as a whole felt a bit like one crescendo in a sense – we were carried on a sea of noise, with waves of sound occasionally thundered against out ears, or settling into an ominous calm, only to swell once again. ‘I’m Taking The Train Home’, ‘That Summer, At Home I Had Become the Invisible Boy’, and ‘Cold Days From The Birdhouse’, with its child-baiting ‘Where are your manners?’ outro, all stood out. The new songs seemed to develop logically from these now familiar tracks, sitting comfortably in what was a consistently powerful set.
James Graham, while not behaving like a frontman in any traditional sense of the word, certainly has stage presence. Standing largely side on to the audience, mic in hand, head shaved, he holds his own against his band’s barrage of noise. In instrumental passages, he’ll occasionally stare intensely out into the audience, which is disarming and ultimately pulls you further in. He worried about not being understood (he needn’t have been) but seemed genuinely encouraged by the crowd’s reaction. Overall, it was a predictably intense performance, but one that managed to remain engaging throughout. Album number two, Forget The Night Ahead will finally see release in September and on the strength of this gig, it’ll be a big step up from their debut.
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