I can vividly recall excitedly approaching what is now another relatively soulless O2 down around Shepherd's Bush on two separate, although here associated occasions. Once was to finally catch Bristol trip hop progenitor
Tricky, whilst the other was to observe
The Antlers out in the wilds of west London.
One disappointed a little less than the other, but the two contrasting forces here combine to recreate the lucid flow of the latter's Crest. Stripped of nigh on everything aside from Peter Silberman's crystalline indie cooing, it'd appear on first exposure that the self-professed
Knowle West Boy treats a remix as though it were a radio stream of a song scarcely known, as his deep incantations closely haunt all original vocals. Yet in the intricacies of this innovative re-imagining lie tenebrous beauties: the primaeval sylvan rhythms, the stark bass stabs, and the creeping tinge of an eldritch, carnivalesque synth manipulation. They came together over a recalcitrant Portuguese coffee machine, and by God is this one sure to be thundered out on many a late, caffeinated night.
The Antlers play The National's sold out ATP at the end of the year.
