New Young Pony Club live at The Village, Dublin

The downside of a word-of-mouth buzz is that there’s a danger people will attend your gigs before having the chance to familiarise themselves with the music. They will not be dizzied with excitement at the prospect of hearing some cherished recorded material in the flesh; rather, they will stand, aloof, waiting to be impressed.
This is a conundrum that hotly-tipped London electro-rockers New Young Pony Club grappled with on their Dublin debtu, with mixed results. While the band will have been pleased to find themselves in a venue like The Village prior to the release of their first album, it can’t be good for morale that their on-stage energy wasn’t matched by a similarly ebullient crowd reaction.
NYPC describe themselves as “the world’s ultimate support band” – letting everyone know just how delighted they are at finally becoming a headline act. Their performance still carries some of the hallmarks of a warm-up show, though – for one thing, the set’s brevity raises one or two disapproving murmurs in the audience. Not from me: New Young Pony Club would just be padding things, if they extended their set.
Their set was relatively enjoyable, but with a number of flaws. The most obvious Achilles heel is Tahita Bulmer’s flat vocals, which often muddy what is an often intriguing sonic soup.
New Young Pony Club also give the impression of a band that, in search of eclecticism, may have neglected their essential strengths. They are at their best when building loose-limbed, Brazilian-flavoured rhythm tracks (the best of which is storming closer ‘Descend’), but they also have a tendency to toss off the kind of chugging, disco-rock-by-numbers tracks, which made up nearly half of their set.
Hopefully these shortcomings will be overcome on their album. It may even be that longer term exposure to the material will reveal hidden layers of depth. For now, floating voters will not be totally swayed. But – happily, for the group – many are still willing to be convinced.

Photography by Naomi McArdle