LCD Soundsystem

Astoria, London, UK. 14th Feburary 2005.

Now I don't want to come across immature. Being thunder splittig, brain stirring, skeleton shakingly loud may have no assurance of any kind of musical quality. It may be the domain of bored kids trying to piss off their parents / neighbours / law enforcement agencies. But not only were LCD Soundsystem the loudest thing I've ever witnessed in my limited gigging life, they blasted a note so loud it made a six foot bank of monitors fall down.

From the outset, its been apparent that James Murphy (the sole founder and only full time member of LCD Soundsystem) was carving out his own cultural universe. Whether, as he claims in Losing My Edge, 'he was there' from Beefheart's first rehearsals, Suicide's first show, from the birth of punk and onto lying naked on a beach in Ibiza, was never the point. It's a semi-mock sermon that shows Murphy engineering these scattered counter-culture influences into one techno-punk juggernaut.

If Murphy is creating his own universe it seems like he needs to bring his entire studio onstage to recreate it. My spirtis wobble as it dawns on me that all these drum kits, guitars and unidentifiable boxes are it's going to take more time to soundcheck than play. Along with four other musicians Murphy appears sporting a black Rough Trade t-shirt. Another piece in the puzzle of his influences? My fears are allayed as the soundcheck is completed in about fifteen minutes, and the opening drums of Beat Connection define their agenda. How serious Murphy is again is once more a point of debate, as blasts us all for being gutless no-fun-niks. If ever there's been another band in history that likes to write music about music more than LCD S I'll be physically unable to accept their existence. There used to be a problem watching dance bands play live in that you were never sure whether to watch or dance, a problem exasabated in clubs that you'd normally be dancing in anyway, heedless as to whether you were facing the stage or not. The great thing about moshing is you only ever do it one direction. Imagine moshing with side to side movements - it'd be a bloody mess. I solve my predicament by slipping down the side of the crowd to the left hand end of the front row, six feet away from a size twenty speaker stack where I grab hold the railing rattle around, limbs blowing like branches in a vicious wind. As an experience its right up there with standing under the undulating wave, and I when I say wave I mean a real tangible pressure, of the blades of a large commercial helicoptor. The fact that there's no one and only a slight railing inbetween me and these twenty speakers just adds to the violation.

Between switching from patiently evolving electronica-pop to the super spightly punk-funk of Give it Up, Murphy apologises for his voice and waves what looks like an inhaler. Onstage banter may have to be something he works on. Nonetheless, infection or otherwise, he holds nothing back. Without trying to offer what might sound like a backhanded compliment Mur[hy's vocals sound no worse than one might expect as he yelps through Give it Up. The crowd respond to the one they all know (don't crowds always respond to the one they all know?) Daft Punk Is Playing at My House before Murphy truly decapitates us all with Movement. A volcano of guitar sound and hell knows what else halfway through, is more than the loud, it's beyond my concept of loud, as the six foot stack of monitors spontaneously collapse. A flurry of raodies swoop to reassemble the debris. I have to be grateful its not the main speaker stack or I'd be pulverised. Not that it matters - anymuchmore of this punishment and and my bones will be jellied. I cling to the railing, praying to remain sane. Jesus, what will Yeah! be like? Alas, it's somewhere during the almighty climax the occasional drummer / occassional other instruments basher (all of Murphy's crew take to several instruments at one point or another) messes up and starts a wave of toms several bars too early. They stop short of the glass shattering excesses of the record, perhaps with this slip in mind, or perhaps the very top frequencies are something just impossible to achieve outside the studio. Despit this they still summon a juggernaut power as all the parts flawlessly combine.

Murphy and co return for the encore. Murphy once again apologises for his voice and informs us that if he suddenly disappears it's so he can puke in the wings. LCD S pound there way through Losing My Edge then an unknown track which looses us all. An unfortunate damp squib to end an otherwise spectacular firework show. We patiently shuffle out towards the London drizzle and and more waiting for tubes. Arthur Dent was right; if there's one thing us British know about it's queuing. 'Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah' voices fleetingly echo in the corridor. 'yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah' another replies. LCD Soundsystem: a positive force no less. Although lumped in with the new punk-funk scene, Murphy's heavyweight construction is from a different `conceptual world to the choppy ad hoc tunes of their contmeparies apparent (Gang of Four, Radio 4 et al). .

Notes on the support.

As I said to Mac whilst watching The Streets at the Big Day Out there's a Butlins element to their music, and the same applies to Go! Team - at least the live experience. Butlins for those outside of Britain is a chain of family holiday camps. Mainly marketed at kids the misbegotten stereotype of stuffy, reserved Brits is swept away by, and I'm trying not to sound like a stuffy cunt, lowest common denominator 'fun'. GT featuring some shouty lady, I'll research this better next time, implore everyone to 'put there hands in there'. Frankly, I'd forgotten how unresponsive some London audiances can be. Get used to playing support slots people. Although maybe these moribund capital dwellers have got it correct. Isn't this 'hands in the air' business getting a bit antiquated?

Soulwax: pedestrian riffing, clearly better at patiently tweaking the audiance into a frenzy with some rough yet sensual sequencer action. The punters are lapping it up, like wanton whores brandishing their open oriffices with slavish genuflection.

LCD Soundsystem jukebox - How does Murphy use his influences without getting second hand: A Pitchfork interview.