Health

At their most alive, the LA foursome are downright terrifying. Health’s music is threatening; their movements feral and untamed. In a word: the whole spectacle is astounding.
Bassist John Famiglietti takes front of stage, a gorgeous face obscured by a mane of wild hair. He intermittently collapses to his knees to bang an electronic drum controller. Guitarist Jupiter Keys strikes an unflinching pose, while Benjamin Miller is a total powerhouse on the skins. For all the concentrated thrashing, when a spot of banter is called for between songs, guitarist Jake Duzsik can barely squeak out the words (and when he does, turns out he was only trying to say ‘We’re gonna play another song...’)
The only real vocals tonight are articulated moans under heavy distortion, so the highlight is something I’ve chosen to call the Alarm Bells Interlude, where blinding, menacing lights and heavy-duty warning sirens make for an otherworldly experience. Elsewhere, songs bleed awkwardly into each other, from ‘Crimewave’ to ‘Glitter Pills’, from pure anguish-driven rock to a kind of thorny shoegaze.
The great thing about this great noise is that you never really know what you are hearing. Granted, it’s hard to get involved in a show where you have more trouble lifting your eyes from the four man army on stage than ungluing your feet from the tacky club floor but it’s always a privilege to witness a performance that makes you think about performance.
There are, perhaps, bands that deserve the hype more than these unbalanced West Coast gypsies. But I’m pretty sure Health are the only ones out there that can pull off a show as physically unsettling as this.