The latest of the otherworldy gigs in the stellar Heineken Green Spheres series, giddy Brits Bombay Bicycle Club occupy the second spot on the tonight’s bill. Front man Jack Steadman’s velvety plummeting baritone and Ed Nash’s grinding bass lines fuel their abiding, if a little timid, set, with hit ‘Always Like This‘ inspiring the most glory.
Rather unexpectedly, headliners Foals cast off to little fanfare. ‘Total Life Forever’, the titular track from their long-awaited second album, plunges us into an ominous retro groove before erupting into another of their infamously jerky hooks. Spasmy hit ‘Cassius’ lacks a certain luster, but the foursome redeem themselves with a bout of fancy fretwork before the choon is out. The crowd bops happily along to Yannis Philippakis’ s bark, but all in all, it’s a pretty prosaic start. Calm down sports fans, Philippakis will be leading an astonishing 75-minute long riot before long.
‘Olympic Airways’ kicks things into high octane, as a breed of topless men begin clapping their shirts together and the seething underbelly of Foals’ tunes are beautifully exposed. Yannis pillages the limelight as usual, plopping momentarily into the crowd during the unruly ‘Balloons’, as if to give a taster of the mayhem to come.
A performing mastermind at 24, if Foals have taken a turn for the mellower, our Indie boy Evil Knievel is carrying it off with tremendous nerve. New layered lovelies ‘Black Gold’ and ‘Alabaster’ go down a storm, while ‘Spanish Sahara’ reels into a faultless crescendo.
Philippakis trades his guitar for a snare drum on the 15-minute epic that is Antidotes track ‘Electric Boom’, moving his strikes swiftly to bassist Walter Gervers’ back. In a flash, he’s taken an almighty running leap and landed effortlessly on the crowd’s shoulders, with just enough time to lash his drum sticks into the balcony before getting swallowed into a swirling vortex of bodies. He’s only the second man I’ve seen connect so physically with the crowd here (the other was Gallows front man Frank Carter whose infamous head bang injuries are now broaching double digits) but thankfully, he’s fished out five minutes later by security without any snapped bones, albeit minus a shoe. The song’s not sewn up ‘til he thumps his mike madly off the snare and, panting and knackered, surrenders his other shoe to the audience tourbillon.
Famed and adored for untamed thrash guitar and spiky vocals, Foals have discovered the merit of hush on route to their sophomore record. It’s a difficult blend to pull off, but tonight, they’ve managed a near seamless alloy of frantic old and the slow-burning new.
Just when I think they might be the cleverest rockers on the planet, Philippakis sinks into the crowd for the second time, this time tickling his guitar as he gyrates to the back of the venue. Now I’m back to thinking he’s just plain bananas...him and a lot of very naked, very happy men.
We'll have a full interview with Heineken Green Spheres performers Foals in the next issue of Hot Press, out on June 3.