Some artists, you would assume, naturally lend themselves to the restrained nature of gigs in late 2020 more than others. When London crooner Matt Maltese bestowed his twinkle-eyed, piano-led balladry upon us as part of DIYs 100th celebrations, you wouldnt have wanted to be anywhere else except sat down, with a few dear pals, under the night sky. The purposefully obtuse nature of black midi, meanwhile, makes perfect sense in front of a group of chin-strokers perched in the pokey belly of Brixton Windmill during their recent residency. However, Working Mens Club? Having recently released a debut that came good on all the antagonistic, ravey potential that Syd Minsky-Sargeant and co had teased us with so far, the prospect of this most visceral of bands playing to essentially a small church congregation feels odd, at best.<\/p>\n
Yet the reality is a whole different beast. Sat in separated groups of two, dotted around the upstairs venue of Hackneys Oslo, its a true testament to the communal nature of live music (and the sheer good will and good vibes emanating from a group of people whove missed it so much) that todays afternoon set feels like a positive, joyous slap around the face. <\/p>\n
Bowling around the stage like a caged tiger, moving down into the crowd as much as is literally legally allowed, and taking his top off like hes headlining a sweaty club despite actually playing to 40 people in rainy October, Syd is exactly the kind of frontman you want at an event like this: one wholl give the same level of energy no matter the conditions; one wholl definitely not make it awkward. Hes Ian Curtis if he fronted New Order instead of Joy Division - an intense, twitchy presence with a steely gaze (particularly on a climactic final Teeth), but backed by the kind of mesmeric, massive tunes that make you want to down ten pints and go on a rampage. <\/p>\n
Cook A Coffees driving guitar riffs are gnarly and brilliant, while A.A.A.A finds the singer squalling its staccato chorus yowl like a man possessed. Meanwhile, when the quartet enter the more synth-led, hypnotic likes of John Cooper Clarke and Valleys, stage lights flickering in time, it feels as close to going out-out as weve been in forever. The whole thing is wired and tight, with moments of sheer cathartic relief; if you didnt realise that youd been 20% more tense for at least six months, then it feels good to finally let the looseness of loud, live music ease the bones.<\/p>\n
Working Mens Club can create this much of a vibe in the most unconducive of circumstances, so you can only imagine how good theyll be when the crowd can give them something back, too.<\/p>\n
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Not even seats and social distancing can stop Working Men's Club from bringing the hedonism to London's Oslo - DIY Magazine<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Some artists, you would assume, naturally lend themselves to the restrained nature of gigs in late 2020 more than others. When London crooner Matt Maltese bestowed his twinkle-eyed, piano-led balladry upon us as part of DIYs 100th celebrations, you wouldnt have wanted to be anywhere else except sat down, with a few dear pals, under the night sky Continue reading