Times New Viking: Andrew’s Lane Theatre May 26th

Pic by Loreana Rushe

Noise is great. Hands up who likes noise? And I mean proper, loud noise. Like the dizzying, distorted blast of chart techno you hear every time you hurl toward the centre of a trashy fairground ride, or the endless thunder of a waterfall up close. It quickens the blood; its powerful and cathartic. Times New Viking know this. The American three-piece (one girl, two guys) are all about noise, and tonight they bring it to Andrew’s Lane Theatre.

Before the onslaught all is quiet. When the band take the stage there is a funny muted feeling in the air. Its a Monday evening and, frankly, not many people have turned up. People stand around in clusters. The band tune up quietly. In fact they are so unassuming in doing this that there isn’t a clap or holler until they actually start to play, making me wonder if people initially thought they were sound technicians or some such. I fear the worst; a damp squib of a gig to a half empty venue. But then they play, and the torrential sound they make is so raw, so electrifying, that any such doubts are rinsed away in minutes, and replaced by a euphoric blood-rush brought on by this scuzzy, fucked up, yet utterly melodic pop.

Times New Viking don’t just do noise. They also do brevity. Tonight, the songs come ridiculously hard and fast. Tunes pile violently into each other like a twenty-car pile up on the M50, and the audience gape on like thrilled rubberneckers. Throughout, drummer Adam Elliot and Keyboardist Beth Murphy share vocals, most excitingly on (My Head) which ends on the demented chant “we need more money/ ‘cos we need more drugs”. His voice is viciously distorted, a ragged howl to match the mangled interplay between Murphy’s keyboard and Jared Philip’s guitar, both of which manage to sound like an entire army of banjaxed instruments. In fact, what is most impressive about the band tonight is how they manage to coax such a great wall of sound from a keyboard, a guitar and a drum-kit.

At around forty minutes the gig is aptly short and intense, but it satisfies. I’m left with a bigger shit-eating grin than a Cheshire cat and the conviction that Times New Viking are one of the most thrilling bands going. If they come back and play again, I hope its to a bigger crowd. They deserve it.

Menomena Live: The Sugar Club, February 29th

For three dudes, Menomena pulled off an admirable coup in the Sugar Club on Friday night by playing a thumping good set of material drawn mostly from a complex studio recording process. Not only did they manage this, but they managed to transcend the strange physical barriers presented by the Sugar Club itself. This is not a club for a rock show. With its oppressive red drapes, ascending rows of fixed tables and stools, it is quite obviously built for crooners, comedians and cabaret performers. Its the sort of strange velvety place where Isabella Rosellini might walk out on stage, warble a song and collapse on the floor while her vocal eerily continues. Its not the sort of place you go to see three experimental young lads from Oregon play some twisted energetic indie. In my humble opinion Whelans would have suited Menomena much better as a venue.

Regardless, the show had sold out and in spite of all the jostling, those who wanted, managed to squeeze into places where they could dance and enjoy themselves. There was plenty of dancing. Maybe there was a bit of leap year craziness in the air but from the word go, the audience were lepping around as Menomena ripped into a set heavy with songs from their most recent album ‘Friend and Foe’. This was no mean feat as some serious instrument-swapping dexterity was required to tease out the various tricks and turns of tunes like ‘muscle and flo’ and ‘wet and rusting.’ It would seem that Menomena suffer for their art, judging by the steady streams of sweat lashing off the various band members, brought on no doubt by the instrument juggling. This was most notable in the case of sax player Justin Harris’s beard which looked like a hairy Niagra Falls by the time crowd-favourite ‘evil bee’ hit its crescendo. What struck me during this, is how easy it might be to mess it up, for a stray saxophone solo to fart unceremoniously over the wrong drum roll or something.

Yet, they never did mess it up, and managed to not only deliver the goods like a well oiled machine, but feel the crowd and respond to the enthusiasm in the room with a few spontaneous flourishes. And did I mention Danny Seim’s drumming? It was flippin’ breathtaking, a multi-speed acrobatic masterclass. I was watching with two members of bands who were both pretty much in awe at how Menomena pulled off their set. So Menomena then, I’d call them a musician’s band except that would make them sound technical and dry, and they managed to pull off technical proficiency with a good dollop of hard rocking fun. Shame about the venue though.

Words: Darragh McCausland
Photo: Loreana Rushe