Post by einzack on Feb 3, 2006 13:51:31 GMT 1
not sure whether this has been posted before, but a good review of the ICA show on the 11th can be found
here: www.xfm.co.uk/Article.asp?id=163984
copy/paste:
Mogwai, ICA, January 11 2006
Blowing hot and cold, veering from painful pleasure to a twisted form of pleasurable pain, kissing the heavens whilst cursing at hell, post-rock space cadets Mogwai are a band of extremes. With the kind of beginnings and ends that relentlessly assault the senses to the degree that people are left reeling, gasping and finally bathing in waves of sonic joy.
The fact that Mogwai kick off with ‘You Don’t Know Jesus’ and end with the climactic and apocalyptic barrage of ‘Mogwai Fear Satan’ simply serves to underline their purpose with a knowing wink and nod.
Mogwai could be the ultimate head band, the sort of cosmic wanderers who appreciate and understand the values and capabilities of a Gibson SG as it’s forced kicking and screaming through a bank of analogue effects pedals set to such mind-melting levels that its aural onslaught could stop a small army in its tracks. It’s an incredible technical proficiency that’s at work here but one that’s outweighed only by the lofty aesthetics that power it. Yep, it’s time we left the world today.
The morsels from their forthcoming opus ‘Mr Beast’ suggest a band that’s reconnected and plugged back into what it does best, namely creating spectral moods through the sort of dynamics that ebb, flow, rise to and fall from breathless heights to create a journey through soundscapes. ‘Acid Food’ sees hesitant vocals from Commander-in-Chief Stuart Braithwaite that are supplemented by squelchy, programmed beats and though an awry vocal delivery on ‘Travel Is Dangerous’ implies that their strength remains in instrumental exploration, the colossal ‘We’re No Here’ sees Mogwai drawing on their strengths as they rise from the hum of gentle feedback to create epic sweeps that conclude in a maelstrom of unholy noise.
An astonishing achievement, it stands proudly against older cuts such as ‘2 Rights Make 1 Wrong’ which tonight has the curious effect of recalling Super Furry Animals without the lyrics, accent or humour as they fall into a K hole while ‘Summer’ takes the band’s quiet-loud-quiet schtick to the nth degree, all the while underpinned by subtle Morricone-esque twinkling.
“This is better than last night,” announces Braithwaite at one point. “I feel sorry for the people who paid £100 for yesterday on e-Bay. Oh well, you win some, you lose some.” Make no mistake; tonight, everyone’s a winner.
Julian Marszalek
here: www.xfm.co.uk/Article.asp?id=163984
copy/paste:
Mogwai, ICA, January 11 2006
Blowing hot and cold, veering from painful pleasure to a twisted form of pleasurable pain, kissing the heavens whilst cursing at hell, post-rock space cadets Mogwai are a band of extremes. With the kind of beginnings and ends that relentlessly assault the senses to the degree that people are left reeling, gasping and finally bathing in waves of sonic joy.
The fact that Mogwai kick off with ‘You Don’t Know Jesus’ and end with the climactic and apocalyptic barrage of ‘Mogwai Fear Satan’ simply serves to underline their purpose with a knowing wink and nod.
Mogwai could be the ultimate head band, the sort of cosmic wanderers who appreciate and understand the values and capabilities of a Gibson SG as it’s forced kicking and screaming through a bank of analogue effects pedals set to such mind-melting levels that its aural onslaught could stop a small army in its tracks. It’s an incredible technical proficiency that’s at work here but one that’s outweighed only by the lofty aesthetics that power it. Yep, it’s time we left the world today.
The morsels from their forthcoming opus ‘Mr Beast’ suggest a band that’s reconnected and plugged back into what it does best, namely creating spectral moods through the sort of dynamics that ebb, flow, rise to and fall from breathless heights to create a journey through soundscapes. ‘Acid Food’ sees hesitant vocals from Commander-in-Chief Stuart Braithwaite that are supplemented by squelchy, programmed beats and though an awry vocal delivery on ‘Travel Is Dangerous’ implies that their strength remains in instrumental exploration, the colossal ‘We’re No Here’ sees Mogwai drawing on their strengths as they rise from the hum of gentle feedback to create epic sweeps that conclude in a maelstrom of unholy noise.
An astonishing achievement, it stands proudly against older cuts such as ‘2 Rights Make 1 Wrong’ which tonight has the curious effect of recalling Super Furry Animals without the lyrics, accent or humour as they fall into a K hole while ‘Summer’ takes the band’s quiet-loud-quiet schtick to the nth degree, all the while underpinned by subtle Morricone-esque twinkling.
“This is better than last night,” announces Braithwaite at one point. “I feel sorry for the people who paid £100 for yesterday on e-Bay. Oh well, you win some, you lose some.” Make no mistake; tonight, everyone’s a winner.
Julian Marszalek