MADONNATRON | LIVE REVIEW
The Moon, Cardiff, Fri 23 Mar
In truth, it starts not with a bang but with a whimper. Tonight’s opening act, Big Whoop, have no internet presence and (sadly) not much more stage presence. For the moment, at least, it seems unlikely that their cheap and cheerfully scruffy indie rock (Waxahatchee, Japandroids) will ever garner the enthusiastic audience reaction after which they’re named.
Hollow Mask’s problem – aside from the pair who try to walk off with all of their merch – is their weedy digital drums whose output is swamped by and submerged beneath the dense layers of guitar. While this may be largely due to an unsympathetic sound mix, either they should beef up the beats to occupy similar territory to The Big Pink or M83, or instead dispense with them altogether, cutting loose and venturing towards shoegazey abstraction. Whichever path they choose, though, first track Spirals is suggestive of a duo with plenty of noise-pop potential.
Telgate, meanwhile, labour under the misconception that they can be filed under “punk/grunge”. That couldn’t be much further from the truth: as confirmed by vocalist Casper’s velvet trousers and declaration of love for Led Zeppelin before a cover of Whole Lotta Love, the precociously talented quartet are in reality improbably young keepers of the classic rock flame. Painfully unfashionable though the genre might be, there’s something cheering about the gusto with which they pay tribute to the sort of acts that were the staples of The Old Grey Whistle Test. The scent of a burning joss stick hangs in the air both literally and metaphorically.
Melt Dunes would have been equally at home in the 70s. In Meet Me In The Bathroom, Lizzy Goodman’s book about the early 00s New York rock revival, LCD Soundsystem’s James Murphy recalls how he gave very short shrift to David Holmes’ suggestion that together they might make a record that sounds like Can. His point is that no one can ever really sound like the German pioneers, but Melt Dunes certainly give it a good go – without attempting to replicate Jaki Liebezeit’s drumming, naturally. Their brand of jam-band psych is not so heavy on the heavy, relying instead on groove and funk to burrow their way into your brain with both ease and precision.
I’m automatically predisposed to like Madonnatron after they revealed they’d be marking their entry into Wales across the Severn Bridge by belting out Bonnie Tyler’s Total Eclipse Of The Heart in the back of their tour bus. Turns out I’m also automatically predisposed to like them because they cover all bases from sinister, sultry organ-drone psych a la Jane Weaver and Josefin Ohrn (Headless Children) to Crampsian whipcrack shake, rock, rattle‘n’roll (Be My Bitch, Mother’s Funeral). It’s as if Warpaint, always too pallid and bloodless for my liking, have suddenly succumbed to vampiric lust and the urge to dress up as L7 and write songs about bunny-boiling (Glenn Closer). Just in case you’re in any doubt, this is An Extremely Good Thing Indeed.
words BEN WOOLHEAD