Mon 26 May
Clwb Ifor Bach, Cardiff
On paper, Islet should be a difficult band to like. When describing them to friends I realise they sound like the sort of thing enjoyed by ear-hating musical sadists who would rather listen to Steve Albini sanding a blackboard than the Beach Boys. The funny thing is, they’re actually very good. And a lot of fun. And I didn’t even have to force myself to like them.
Throughout the evening the four members of Islet – who are based in Cardiff – flit seamlessly between instruments like four arms of one musical beast. Generally we have a guitar or bass, keyboards and two drummers – with two kits set up next to each other providing the musical engine room. Vocals are contributed by one or all of the members, and tend to be of the unhinged, yelping variety that suggests some form of deep, regressive therapy that could have been popular in the ’60s.
So, why are they so much fun? Central to the Islet experience is the drums, that grip the audience from the off and, with their nods to Krautrock, drive the gig onwards with the insistency of a motorcade of BMWs on an autobahn. The other instruments are largely harnessed to this rhythmic core – without ego they create a pulsing, organically evolving whole. And like Animal Collective, Islet have honed a skewed method from the madness of their operation. Snatches of melody drift in and out of focus, pulling the listener in before darting off on new tangents. The songs ebb and flow, long percussive sections collapsing into analogue keyboard riffs and shouted choruses, but always display a primal appeal and innate musicality. Islet are unavoidably avant garde – there aren’t many songs tonight you could imagine Simon Cowell pinching for SuBo’s next Christmas single. But there’s nothing wilfully awkward or contrived about them, and as the beaming audience leaving Clwb tonight attest, a lot to enjoy.