White Denim are relentless. Live, they exhibit all the restraint
of an untrained Rottweiler that's caught the scent of raw meat in its nostrils.
There's barely even a moment left vacant in tonight's set for the Texan
four-piece to say a quick "hello"; instead they tear through their
back-catalogue of disparate genres as if held to ransom.
Without any concept of boundaries and propelled by a sense
of no-holds-barred adventurism, White Denim are a rare breed of modern rock
band. D, their latest album, not only
proved against all reason that prog, country and psychedelia could co-exist in harmony,
but that they could live together in a veritable, albeit dysfunctional, state
of marital bliss.
Playing live, the shackles of being constrained on record
come loose and White Denim go all out. They take the opportunity greedily, resulting
in songs that sometimes drag, lost in the midst of extended guitar jams and the
venue's muddy PA system.
Nevertheless, their ambitious approach also means moments of
formidable greatness arise in amongst all the noodling. The segue between 'It's
Him' and 'At The Farm' sees colossal riffs and time signature changes come at a
thrilling speed, carried by the beat of a drummer who plays so fast you'd think
it was an octopus possessed by the spirit of John Bonham up there on stage.
Only during the fragile 'Street Joy' is the band given the
chance to catch its collective breath. The track, brokered by lead singer James
Petralli's earthy howl and a perfect, Neil Young-esque guitar solo, is satisfyingly
disarming sitting beside all the frenzied noise that has come before it.
Photo: Sara Amroussi-Gilissen (stolen from TLOBF)
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