From vaguely church-like moments to the grooviest parts of the hotter end of the afterlife, tonight takes an impressive shot at the lot.
Spat out at the end there’s a sweaty catharsis that great gigs have a unique hold upon. There are moments of utter abandon across the whole event and judging by the bedraggled throng spat out the venue come midnight, it’s not only one dry white wine too many and misplaced enthusiasm on ITM’s part.
Managing to somehow miss an early set from Future Islands, we still go all in with two heavy-hitters of wildly different appeal. For all their qualities, Sparks sometimes come across like an enthusiastic church rock band or happy-clappy summer camp entertainment for fat American kids. Alison Goldfrapp et al certainly won’t be pressing their noses at the doors of the local nunnery anytime soon. Dark, loud and sexy as Hell. Which, it has to be said, it bloody well needs to be for anyone sucked into paying the eye-watering prices for tickets on the secondary market. With Don Letts at the DJ controls and Marc Riley (aka Lard) fannying about introducing folk, it’s quite an evening.
Sparks whack out a set that, to these ears at least, is, well, a little inconsistent. The well-versed juxtaposition of the puppy dog Russell Mael and inscrutable – sorry, there is no other word – brother Ron is all present and correct. A couple nearby are predictably “freaked out” by the latter. But, but…it veers from extremes with such enthusiasm it’s hard to get any momentum. Oddly some of the new material is the strongest. ‘Edith Piaf (Said It Better Than Me)’ is simply wonderful and irresistible. It fills the whole venue with sleek and joyful pop and shows that when they work, they really nail it. Some of the other things lobbed at us seem a little self-consciously zany or affected, though. Never a good thing. I get the quirky appeal but remain unconvinced, overall. Too many points admiring the individuality whilst not get sucked in. That said, at some point, everyone should see Ron Mael abandon his station, roll up his sleeves and do quite the finest popular music dancing ever. He has the moves tonight, no doubt about that.
After that slightly queasy but sporadically good set, a wander is in order. Always surprising when you discover new bits to a venue you’ve been to countless times before. So it is I find myself lurking up near the roof with a thoroughly marvellous view. A near-deserted little bar within lurching distance too. Fine work and a fine eyrie to observe the sweaty cauldron down below.
When Goldfrapp appear, the first thing that’s notable, beyond the predictable delirium in the cheap seats, is how spectacularly loud it is; it hits hard. Whether that’s due to the BBC ramping things up a bit or, from my new, bat-like haunt, the acoustics simply rock…who knows? If it’s the latter, head for the hills next time you’re in the Academy. It’s quite something.
The second thing that strikes, after peeling oneself off the wall in the face of the tidal wave of sound is that Alison is in silhouette; for pretty much the whole night, in fact. Massively powerful but minimal lights are almost all from behind. For someone with the star-power to attract the prices being asked outside and in the run-up, it’s impressively lacking in ego. Whether a BBC producer is sat there, slack-jawed and ashen at the fact his or her main event is visible only in outline is anyone’s guess. Works for me, though. Agreeable lack of ego for someone blessed with a whole heap of charisma.
As you can perhaps afford to be if you can bang out a set like this. Goldfrapp are simply spectacular tonight. It’s banging, it’s seething and it has the fellow inhabitants bouncing around with glee. It may bring smiles and arse-wriggles but the whole set has an agreeable brashness and a fuck you, attitude. Not that she’s rude or owt – perfectly polite and all that. But there are few concessions. This is straight down the line, hard-assed grooves smacked over your head, like it or cheerio.
‘Train’ rips in early on with a minimal and hard intro that could come out of a set by Ben Klock. It’s thunderous and, for once, the “the building shakes” line is actually true. We are vibrating even as gentle firefly lights hang from the ceiling in the dark. By the time the quasi-fascistic, glam stomp of ‘Ooh La La’ kicks in, despite it being far from Goldfrapp’s best material, we’re basically bludgeoned into enjoyment.
Highlight, though, apart from the predictable closer ‘Strict Machine’ is new song ‘Anymore’. Christ almighty, it takes no prisoners. Slithering about like a flowing, red hobgoblin in the dark, Ms Goldfrapp doesn’t really give you a chance not to get swept up. The vocals sit inside the groove unlike some others ploughing similar furrows. The noise works as one rather than the thumping and heavy beats being an adjunct to the glorious warbling. And, like Sparks with ‘Edith’, a delight that we’re not just getting off on old kit.
For such a hotly anticipated gig, Goldfrapp really deliver tonight. And then sign you up for extra everything for a month.
“You’re what I need…I can’t wait, I can’t wait anymore…”
You don’t have to. Boom, a squillion points out of 10.