EAGULLS | LIVE REVIEW
Clwb Ifor Bach, Cardiff, Sat 11 Oct
Cardiff’s own Samoans get the crowd warmed up for the two touring bands, and although it’s not long after doors when they take the stage, people gather early to support this up and coming band. I could see why; they make a terrific noise and were really entertaining. Subsequently, the post-punk infused indie of Manchester’s Mazes was just the ticket, and they got the crowd loosened up nicely in preparation for tonight’s headliners.
Speaking of which, it’s been a long time since I’ve felt a palpable buzz in the air in the lead-up to a performance. For five minutes or so before Eagulls took the stage, the backdrop projected an ominous fuzzy static, like a television not quite picking up a frequency. It set a precedent for what was to come; Eagulls are broadcasting their own signal and you’re either on board, or you’re no use to them.
When the Leeds quintet did arrive, it was to a rolling beat from drummer Henry Ruddel, chased by soaring, reverb-laced guitars, a thunderous bass sound, and singer George Mitchell’s desperate howls piercing the atmosphere. From that moment until the last chord was struck, Eagulls were mesmerising. They’re a product of their environment; grey council estates and nothing to do but drink and start trouble… or start a band. When Mitchell repeatedly screams “hollow visions!” or “soulless youth!”, the sentiment is anything but hollow or soulless; it’s more a battle cry for everyone who’s had to deal with the shit that society can throw at you, and have come out the other end. You can’t help but feel those moments, and it feels like pure rebellion.
Unless you’re already familiar with Eagulls’ material, it can be hard to tell their songs apart from one another; most have the same churning bass sitting below howling guitar, with Mitchell chanting and weaving his twisted melodies. This actually worked in a live setting and fitted in with the notion that you were tuned into their mayhem, sucked into their world for the duration. It was a cerebral experience, like a nightmare you don’t want to wake up from. Walking out of the venue, a bloke turned to me with a massive grin and stated that he could’ve watched them for hours, and I can’t say I disagree.
words IAN ROGERS
