The bass guitarist walked on stage in a boiler suit that he confessed ‘smelt of human shit’, in a giant paper mache head, threw down his can of beer and began to mime the child vocals to '12345'. That set the tone for the rest of the Young Knives gig.
Opening with ‘We could bleed’, it was fast, loud and raw from then on out. Frontman Henry, wearing a paisley shirt and a womens bauble necklace, was hard to take your eyes off as he sang with an intensity which would better suit midnight at a dive bar than 7pm at Rock City.
They played to an odd crowd of middle aged men and awkward teens wearing t-shirts of bands who had long since OD'd, but when the band themselves look like a Halloween chain gang, I think odd is an audience requirement.
Fiercely energetic, the set was worthy of head thrashing and hair swaying, toeing the line between youthful pop rock and something darker and less predictable.
Henry is the archetypal front man. He was magnetic, swaggering across the stage in a way that made him seem much more dangerous than his otherwise perfectly spherical head would allow.
A shout of ‘We used to be like the Kaiser Chiefs but now we are fucking nothing like the Kaiser chiefs’ received a cheer before the band carried on tearing through last years lo-fi ‘Sick octave’ album.
Synths, backing vocals and furiously played guitar made for a noise so rich that it was almost literally deafening. The front row are probably still deaf now.
There was a quick guitar change and Young Knives played some rare old material in ‘The Decision’ and ‘Something awful’. Henry told the crowd, “Here’s an old song, I hope you like it. I fucking won’t like playing it.”
Though they might have been bored of playing the angst rock that made them the idols of long fringed teen boys back in 2006, it didn't show.
It seems offensive then, to say I don't like their music but that's what makes it so good. It was weird and aggressive and noisy and vibrant, but as long as they were playing, I was happy to stay.
Where so many live shows are muted and polished with musicians who politely ask how the crowds doing and say how nervous they are, there's something to be said for bands like Young Knives who barge in there and make you listen.
And in a nod to the flamboyant Flaming Lips they preceded, Henry ended the set wearing a pair of giant homemade bat wings, for a finish as bizarre as their start. In that hour and a half Young Knives reminded me why live performances are so special. The weirder the better.
germansingergirl
turnnoffyourmind
yousharknotpass
dededos
jacobvanloon
baratheonpilled
areudirty