Enter Shikari; A Visceral, Rousing Glasgow Showing
Published
To an extent, the crowd makes the band. Birds of a feather, it has been claimed, flock together. On this Saturday, the 21st of January, the Barrowlands are packed with 1,800 people charged with a formidable, almost aggressive, anticipatory energy. An angry hunger perhaps for recognition or release that tonight’s headliners provide by virtue of their potent political messages.
The show opened, however, with the strong, crisp and at times almost angelic tones of local band Fatherson’s Ross Leighton. At times he seemed to coo over crunchy guitar, at others seemed to meld with the searing notes.
They were followed on by a Yorkshire band with the grammatically-challenged moniker All Us On Drugs. Lead singer Jason Moules, with his Beatles-like mop, played the role of cocky band-leader awkwardly.
“After three I want everyone to shout ‘herpes’ as loud as you can – so I can feel at home,” he shouts, clarifying for the sake of a heckler that he is “not giving it away mate – I’m clean”. Quite what that meant eluded me, but stood at the front of the stage, Moules managed harmonious, eerie and angst-riddled vocals like a troubled child desperately trying to wake from a drug-fueled nightmare.
Shrieking “am I weird” over the resounding conclusion to the title-song, he led the audience through a grungy, brooding, urban repertoire of effects-heavy hooks and cracking drums, adeptly referencing Smashing Pumpkins, Alice in Chains and their grunge alumni.
The stage was then darkened by the ominous, sinister and exhilarating appearance of Feed the Rhino. Oozing violent masculinity, Lee Tobin commanded the stage like he had crawled from the marshy hell of a True Detective episode.
Breaking from his searing, soul-severing vocals only to enjoin the audience to an impromptu scrum, Tobin cut a terrifying and captivating figure leading us through the grit and grime of the thunderous drums and acidic guitar that characterize FtR.
The durm und strang took a comic turn with the public-health-announcement style count-down to the Enter Shikari entrance.
The hallmark Shikari stage set-up throbs arterial blue lightening - at once both the thunderbolt of judgment and the pulse of a frustrated generation - from the renowned upturned triangle that symbolizes an upturning of hierarchies. The audience welcomed new singles Slipshod, The Last Garrison, and Anaesthetist, from latest Shikari album The Mindsweep, and old favourites like Mothership and Sssnakepit, with a loyal fervor and abandon now long associated with the Hertfordshire band.
The captivating Rou Reynolds, wearing an unassuming sports jacket, delivers his vocals with passionate political conviction, and the crowd is stirred to an almost frenetic fury.
There is something visceral and rousing in Shikari’s acerbic lyrics. “ ‘Shut it, just consume, crave riches and lust for fame’, No you won’t see us participating in that game, Keep your twisted take on success, Cause all I really want is what’s beating in your chest,” screams a possessed Reynolds through The Anaesthetist, as the mob at the foot of the stage bray for the break in the song that brings them sweet release. And when it comes, in shattering shards of complex electronica and gear-grinding guitar, the Shikari light strobes once more over a crowd that appears momentarily hypnotized, frozen in time with each snapshot of blue light.
The question left on my lips is: when Reynold’s snaps his fingers and drags them out of their reverie, will this lot have been moved to engage with the ills of society that Shikari outline in their lyrics?
All in all, tumbling from the sweaty Barrowland cocoon into the bitter Glasgow night air, one is left with the feeling (as reliably enforced by an Urban Dictionary definition of “Enter Shikari”) that “the world needs to hear them”.
To find out more about Enter Shikari click here.
To visit the Enter Shikari Facebook page click here.
By John Tonner Pictures by John athttp://ishootgigs.com/
