Vampire Weekend Review

Vampire Weekend
Brighton Audio
Sunday 24th February 2008

“You’re shit hot!” shouts a typically animated Vampire Weekend devotee. “You don’t like us? Oh…” enquires clearly deflated singer Ezra Koenig. “No, no, shit hot means good over here,” he is assured. Although some things are lost in translation, the band’s irrepressibly joyous pop kitsch is well understood.

The New York band have enjoyed (or endured, depending on your viewpoint) more hype than is strictly plausible for a preppie four-piece with a penchant for Peter Gabriel. If this had gone to their heads the ridiculously tiny stage wouldn’t be able to fit even one of their egos, let alone a drum kit. When they jumble into view, forced to perform in a straight line due the delightfully cramped setup, it’s clear they’re as enthusiastic as the opening aural fling of ‘Mansard Roof’ suggests. The lyrical quirkiness charges fragmented rhythms in a strolling idiosyncratic salute.

The difference of this beginning is misleading though. Despite their billing as composers of thrilling, new musical ideas, Vampire Weekend are really just another indie band, who happen to throw in some world influences to compliment the angular riffs. This doesn’t decrease their attraction though, as new single ‘A-Punk’ shows. It’s infectious melody and buzzing bass are brimming with a frazzled energy that disperses into an already vivacious audience. It’s unadulterated playfulness, with enough “whoa” chants to engage and not too many to annoy.

The set careens past, a blur of communicable vim. Themes of unswerving simplicity in ‘Campus’ and ‘M79’ increase the hurtling pace of the show, with cheery exuberance favoured over showy dramatics or complexity. The former showcases the loveable naivety of the group as they reminisce: “In the afternoon you‘re out on the stolen grass/And I‘m sleeping on the balcony after class.” They look startlingly young, and suitably untroubled. ‘Cape Cod Kwassa Kwassa’, with its calypso attitude and clinking melody, is a calming respite, less frenetic but equally jubilant.

The closing couplet of ‘Oxford Comma’ and Walcott’ raise smiles and spirits further. Ezra’s sardonic drawl of “All your diction dripping with disdain,” in their knowing ode to grammatical accuracy proves a glowing highlight. The tempo changes, vocal gimmickry and clever stylistic blending characterise the band’s tongue-in-cheek astuteness and overriding aim to entertain.

‘Walcott’ is a plain old sing-along, containing about four lines, but enough spark to make the crowd desperately want to visit the mysterious Cape the song’s protagonist wants to get out of. The drumming is basic and overwhelmingly loud, the tune is easy to follow, the hook itching to be yelled. This is timeless sunshine music, but equally effective at warming a Brighton basement in February. Vampire Weekend are far too fun to be revolutionary, and all the better for it.