In this line of work, you get to see a lot of live performances over the course of a year (212 including festivals, but who’s counting?), so I’m lucky enough to be able to say that it’s not rare to have a group of total strangers take me to a place of unadulterated aural pleasure. What is rare, however, is to be kept there for a full 80 minutes.
I had really hoped to get through this review without resorting to the multiple orgasm analogy above, but I figure if the lady beside me in Tripod feels it appropriate to reenact a moment of climax every time Dave-1 makes guitar whoopee to his lucky, lucky instrument (sigh...), I’m entitled to join in the vulgarity.
Unmercifully tickling our funky bones tonight are odd couple P-Thugg and the aforementioned Dave-1, who specialise in shameless ‘80s throwback tunes and electronic sorcery with a soulful twist.
The self-confessed disciples of Minneapolis funk lay down tracks from all three studio albums and with irresistible numbers like ‘You’re So Gangsta’, ‘Tenderoni’ and ‘Bonafide Lovin’’ sitting pretty in their back catalogue, it’s near impossible to pick a high point. The intoxicating drum beats, macho guitar riffs and hopelessly cool talk-box refrains don’t let up for a minute. What Chromeo lack in originality, they more than make up for in all-out razzmatazz - lights, shades and those infamous leg keyboard stands are all reflective of their bombastic sound and this show simply wouldn’t be the same without them.
I’ve heard it said that the sign of a great performer is their ability to transport you to another time or place. Whether you agree with this romantic mulch or not, it makes a whole lot of sense when you’re propelled into Chromeo’s effortlessly swanky world – a parallel universe where P-Thugg and Dave 1 are the biggest superstars on the planet and the talk-box is worshipped like a cow in India.
With so much funk on the cards and only two men onstage to create it, much of Chromeo’s live set-up is based on samples – they’ve left plenty of space for gyrating, hip-shaking and general heart-breaking (I swear there were audible swoons). If you happened to concern yourself with which knobs they were turning and what loops were being dropped, well sir, you’ll have missed the slickest, dopest, flyest party of the year.