Animal Collective, Koko, London
The drumming assault from Panda on 'Lion In A Coma' could only stop those with medical conditions from jiving.
If there was one band that has been on the receiving end of the hype brigade, hosing them with superlative jets of praise, then Animal Collective are it. 'Merriweather Post Pavilion' is a great album mind, and the live shows are reckoned to be right up there on some mythical list of rankings. So we come to Koko, and first up is an old man drumming.
Charles Haywood barely deserves a paragraph of my time, let alone a few seconds perusal by you. Make a cup of tea and come back a few lines below. The man can drum, there is no doubt. He used to be in This Heat and everything. And the synth noises that accompany him and his tom rattling cymbal crashing beatings are interesting enough. But someone needs to tell the old man that his singing should be stopped. Here is a sample of words/phrases used: "hubble bubble", "abracadabra", "machine gun, drum machine", "information rich, information poor". These meaningless phrases are delivered like mantras. It feels like a parody of avant garde music, and you only end up wanting to snigger.
Geologist, Avey and Panda take to the stage, each afforded a place on the front line behind a bank of synths and keyboards. Geologist has his customary head lamp on. There are some trippy light banks behind the plan. All is in place for a great night. So why then does it all feel so disappointing? On the record, the album opener (and opener tonight) 'In The Flowers' has a moment, at 2 minutes 29 seconds in, where it explodes into psychedelic carnival of synths and noise. Tonight, it falls flat. The boom is a whimper.
There are brilliant moments buried. Witness the two stand-outs from the record, 'My Girls' and 'Brothersport'. The former closes, its crystal cut keys combining with Avey's eulogy to his family. It's moving and sweet and danceable and wins my hideously premature Single Of 2009. 'Brothersport' is almost better, carrying forth as much energy as it does on record, and getting a large proportion of a static London crowd dancing.
People have been calling 'Merriweather...' Animal Collective's pop record. They're wrong. That was 'Strawberry Jam'. This is their dance record. The drumming assault from Panda on 'Lion In A Coma' could only stop those with medical conditions from jiving. 'Guys Eyes' and 'Summertime Clothes' are played, and do sound tremendous. The problem is, however, that no matter how well they play - and at times they are at their glistening best - none of it works as well as on the record.
Too often, things go ambient. 'Banshee Beat' is ten minutes of the type of dirge that doesn't work when you're crammed into a sweaty venue. Getting a London audience dancing is hard enough, but it's a chicken and egg situation as to why Animal Collective don't put more effort in. A few more 'Strawberry Jam'-era songs would have helped. All we get is a half speed 'Chores' before they jump back into tempo for a minute. 'Slippi', off of old 'un 'Here Comes The Indian', sees a rare outing and tries to electrify the soporific air, succeeding for a few minutes before things are bought back down again.
At an Animal Collective show you expect energy. You expect dancing and lights and joy. And tonight, it just didn't happen enough. Any gig where you are often distracted by the giant glitterball has been a let down, however much you may love the band.
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