We're Already Dead – The Dodos

We're Already Dead – The Dodos

"Why are we called The Dodos? We're already dead. The only place you can go from there is to come back to life, start over." A band seeking to reinvent itself even as the embers of its beginning still burn, The Dodos have no wish to look back. Despite this, their music meanders into the past at every turn, and then hurls itself forward in the crash of a trash can, the personality of a tempo change. They don't sound like right now either, not really fitting into a handy nook, regardless of their folk sensibilities and stylishly dishevelled looks. In their early twenties, they're a throwback to something nobody can remember remembering, so they end up sounding impossibly new.

At V Festival last month, they sounded plain awful. With just 27 people watching, in the midst of that glorified advertisement, they played without any hint of the subtleties they are capable of. "It was so sponsored, so spread out and huge that we were just stuck with nobody watching us," bemoans Meric Long, the band's nonchalant mouthpiece. "We did see Amy Winehouse, but it was hard to have any fun at that monstrosity." Back in the UK for their own tour, at considerably smaller venues than the buzz about them in their native US is allowing them to perform, they appear at home. Logan Kroeber, a tight, persistently driving presence on drums, is far more chipper offstage, exuding the cavalier exuberance of a man used to hitting things with sticks for a living. "This tour is better than V Fest," he laughs. "So much better. We go home tomorrow, so we're celebrating tonight."

The concept of home is far from straightforward for a band getting used to the cross-country necessity of incessant touring. "Home is wherever I can relax," Logan offers. For Meric, it's more convoluted. "It's a crazy cycle every night, it's groundhog day. I forget what happened the night before every morning. Going into each show, there's that sense of anxiety, nervousness, excitement. After the show, it feels like I've taken a huge dump and I feel so much better. Sorry…" He trails off but there's more; pauses are a fixture of his rhetoric, slipping from eloquence to crassness as his tracks move from delicacy to coarseness. "I don't feel like when we visit places we have really visited them. You only see cities at night, and then only the venues, the bars. Home is in the head. It has to be."

So could this displacement from any physical sense of belonging be behind the band's second, breakthrough album, Visiter? Spelt incorrectly on purpose after a child's drawing the band was given, songs on the record such as Park Song and Walking touch upon the dislocation from regularity visitors can feel, even in ordinary settings. "To be honest, I like to leave songs to individual interpretations," Meric explains. "The song is this big cloud, that I don't really understand, or have a good grasp on, I just sense it. I infuse it with things from my personal life, but it would be half-assed to say they're completely personal."

Larger-scale influences than the undemanding unrequited love of Undeclared are often present though, with the possible political upheaval happening back in his physical residence, the US, dominating Meric's thoughts as much as it is the newspapers. The subject of elections is a marked one, bringing a guarded enthusiasm from the band. Even Joe, the group's multi-instrumentalist who is as at home hitting a dustbin as tapping a xylophone, looks animated at the subject despite offering little but politeness and swigs of his beer during the conversation. "It's at that point where there's something new every day, it's a pretty exciting time right now, something is going on that hasn't happened in a long time," states Meric.

The theory that political upheaval could underpin changes to the artistic community divides the band though. Logan isn't convinced. "I can't see it," he frowns. "Of course, it depends what happens, but I really can't imagine any creative spark being influenced by who gets elected or anything." Meric, meanwhile, claims his songwriting is on "the same shit" it always has been, but readily acknowledges the impact November's election result could have on the band. "It will be big, both ways. People are going to be so stoked, or think everything is so lame, depending on the result. That's got to have an effect, there's got to be a change."

Transformation is also happening within a band whose songs seem to be growing increasingly into balanced, meticulously planned affairs, developing to a level beyond the organic playfulness of early material. With new single Fools getting airplay on Radio One, could the leap to the big time come too soon? "We wanna get huge!" exclaims a pokerfaced Logan. "We're going to try to blow their brains out." Meric is keen to join in with such droll facetiousness. "You see that Rolling Stones film? That's peanuts to what we'll be." Logan again: "Ever been to the moon? That big." But how, Gigwise wonders? "Trampoline," they deadpan in unison, in-jokes abound.

But the smirks mask an ambition that rears up in their technical acumen onstage, their bursts of passion off it. They want success, they're human after all.
"It's baby steps," says Joe. "We're just creating an impression that we couldn't get big. We could go there right now, but we want some kind of story to tell when we get there." A few more catchy singles to compliment their skin-itching slow-burners and they may just get their wish. There's a lot of life in the Dodos, for a band that's dead already.

The Dodos - Live

ULU, London
Tuesday 16th September 2008

The Dodos were last seen playing to a gathering of 27 people seeking refuge from the shiny crassness of V Festival in Chelmsford, looking apologetically bored and sounding understandingly uninspired.

Tonight, they find themselves in the convivial confines of ULU, so welcoming that there's a student swimming pool next to the dressing room and as much tea and raisins as growing boys could need. By the time they enter the low lit stage, the atmosphere is more mystical than hysterical, full of fans eager to see if Meric Long and co. can deliver, but genial enough to clap anyway if they don't.

Thankfully, this is an on night. From the opening strums of Meric's guitar, the mesmeric quality of the music is all-encompassing. Songs drift past in fuzzy hazes, the juddering percussion adding an element of drive to the singular, painstakingly accurate guitar subtleties. Soon a third member joins the fray, crashing about as he hits a dustbin, a xylophone and whatever else is handy.

There is an air of chaotic, organic creativity to many songs that sounds so ludicrously free-flowing that it can't possibly be unprepared. As it turns out, it isn't. Looping vocals are added with a tap of Meric's feet, while a tambourine backing track appears from nowhere at one point. However, the technical aptitude to play so unreservedly and yet plan so acutely is startling, making for truly thrilling tracks like Jodi. Beginning inauspiciously, it builds into a hypnotic curve, seeping tension, resolutely gripping but never quite allowing the audience to grasp it.

Contrasting styles and a reignited joy in playing – this is the last night of their UK tour and the promise of a return to the US is clearly a motivator for their performance – make for an engaging sight on stage. While Meric sits crookedly, playing the coy anti-frontman side-stage, the others either rock under the table or bang their sticks. Joe is a structure of solidity on drums, motivating rhythms onwards with skilful, penetrative kit work. It's a peculiar sensation they conjure, the audience helplessly twitching in nods of approval as the plundering catchiness of Fools begins. It is almost an anthem despite itself, provoking a chorused response.

The considered gracefulness of Ashley stands out, stripped of the stomping drive of other numbers but maintaining an irresistible aural coercion. An encore of Undeclared, a lullaby-like reflection of quaintness, plus the blues faux-mess of closer Paint the Rust, nails the challenges and attractions of this developing band. Brimful of talent, their ideas can sometimes run amok and leave the crowd behind, still waiting for a beat straight enough to tap to. But there is ability ever present, converting cynics to sympathisers in split seconds and convincing that the Dodos aren't just another silly name.

London Airwaves Festival - Review

Airwaves London Festival 2008
Friday 19th September
Various Venues, East London


"Is anybody else coming to Iceland then?" the Young Knives enquire. "No? Just us then. We'll send you a fucking postcard." Yes, most of the bands at Airwaves London are here because a trip to the far more alluring surroundings of Reykjavík is part of the package. Most of the crowd are here because it's Friday night in east London and this is what you do on Friday night in east London. It seems there have been more one day festivals popping up this summer than there have been hot days, with most sinking under the radar. Thanks to the association of this one with its big Icelandic brother, plus a slightly less indie-only feel than many others, it's crept into the consciousness of a fair few gathered in Shoreditch tonight.

Having tracked down a pub to pick up some passes, a wander around to take in the atmosphere of the event seems in order. Generally, it feels like Brick Lane often does at night; vibrant, dirty and filled with people rushing around with little purpose other than to look lover-ly and get to the next bar. There are burlesque dancers lining the streets and hordes of kids drinking nonchalantly on the street, but not much sign of a festival going on until inside the various pubs acting as venues.

Thankfully the wristband-based queuing nightmares of the likes of Camden Crawl are avoided here and it's refreshingly straightforward, bar a power-crazed bouncer, to get into Vibe. It soon becomes clear that the main reason for the lack of a backlog is that nobody is bothering to go out until the small hours. These New Puritans are on stage, churning out their surprisingly fashionable electro-by-numbers. Blessed with a charismatic singer in Jack Barnett, complete with a chain mail outfit, they entertain those here early – 10.30pm – with a brisk set of laptop driven rock. It's catchy, but all a bit harmless. When talk in the crowd turns to admiration for the singer's trainers (remember the ones you had at primary school that flash red when you walk? You got a free pair of shinpads with them signed by Alan Hansen sometimes) it is clear apathy is setting in.

The Young Knives are on next though; probably the festival's biggest draw in terms of profile. As irreverent and sweaty as ever, they take to the stage and promptly declare it, flippantly, the House of Lords' favourite haunt. Soon the darting, driving rhythm of Terra Firma is thrilling the considerably swelled audience, with the gap between stage and crowd disappearing. However, it still feels a bit half-hearted. This isn't the Young Knives' arena and they know it. When they make a remark about it being "a bad night to wear a woollen suit" because of the heat, they peer back at a crowd that would undoubtedly wear a dozen layers if they thought it looked good, regardless of temperature considerations. Nevertheless, they air a new track that doesn't quite sound finished and is all the better for it and entertain in their idiosyncratic way.

A wander across to 93 Feet East beckons, where the numbers really are noticeable. A barbecue outside is attracting attention, but in the back room Cazals have already begun. Their two-pronged guitar attack is abrasive and the likes of Somebody Somewhere are jaunty affairs, sung with the passion to be expected for a home turf gig like this. However, it gets tired quickly, as does the crowd, already thinking of the manic treat that lies ahead.

Sooner than expected, Digitalism take to the DJ booth. Having been fixtures of the electro scene for some time, it's a finely-honed act, ebbing and flowing with heavy beats in the right places, getting the texture between stylish licks and cheesy guffaws just about right. Not that it really matters when there's foam piping sailing across the crowd, people dancing on every table and sweat dripping off their faces. Everyone in here would dance to anything right now, Digitalism's reputation preceding them, making whether they're any good or not rather immaterial. Regardless, it's a fine set, provoking a prolonged stage invasion that never really disperses for the rest of the evening.

Upon leaving around three, the music is still raging, there's all manner of lewd acts going on in the toilet and people are still waiting to get inside. There's even a car park rave continuing as people paw around the street searching for naughtiness and night buses. For a one day festival in London, with all the problems that entails, Airwaves doesn't do too badly. It still just feels like wandering from a typical gig into another decent show. But that's good enough for the rest of the year, so as long as your expectations aren't too high, it's alright here too. But yes, Young Knives, we'd prefer to be in Iceland as well.

London Airwaves - Preview

What Is It?

An attempt to bring the undoubted appeal of Iceland Airwaves to the decidedly less picturesque surroundings of east London. The appeal of a musical jaunt in lovely Reykjavik is clear, as is the distinctive allure of a day falling out of Shoreditch's seediest bars. London Airwaves seeks to combine the two in one day of music, culture and late-night revelry.

When And Where?
Pubs, bars and even an old warehouse in east London will play host to bands, with 93 Feet East, Cargo, Bar Music Hall, Vibe Bar, The Macbeth, Hoxton Bar & Kitchen, Old Blue Last and the Hearn Street car park all joining the fun.

Five To Watch

The Young Knives
Often better value comically than musically, they nonetheless always entertain and are seasoned pros at wooing festival crowds with riffs as cutting as the House of Lords' quips.

Florence and the Machine
Simplistic folky fun from Florence, whose quirky songs can turn into irresistible pocket gems when witnessed live.

The Teenagers
Posing aplenty from the youthful Parisians, whose style over substance sound and energetic show is sure to get the crowds going in east London's favourite haunts.
Metronomy
The kooky – as in eccentric, not like Luke Pritchard, thank goodness – indie charmers look set to thrill Airwaves audiences with their distinctive take on experimental pop, having been a mainstay of the festival season.
Crookers
For those still standing, a late-night set from Crookers could bring the curtain down on the festival in startling style, with a set of house-influenced, hip hop dance ready to confuse and amuse anybody not already lost on the night bus.

One To Miss

Wild Beasts
Critical darlings for being different, they also manage to be an utterly dull live prospect, with a myriad of musical ideas combining all at once to make aa monotonous, annoyingly sung, mess.

Playing A Rare Festival Date

Sam Isaac
Ok, so he's played lots of festivals, but not usually the boutique kind. His pop delectation could be a disastrous booking, or may add an extra dimension. Worth finding out, either way.

Inside Tip

The Whip
Despite being billed exactly the same as every other new rave latecomers in the past few years, The Whip are actually a pretty fine crossover band with fewer gimmicks and more tunes than your average glowstick-wielders.

Be At London Airwaves If You Like
The sound of Iceland Airwaves but haven't got the time/money/disposition to trek across the continent, especially when there's a decent line-up just down the road.

Avoid If You Hate
Kids who are far too cool to even consider having fun, trying out new bands and venues that were last decorated before any of the acts playing were conceived.

Festival Tactics
Choose your pubs early and wisely. The biggest acts are sure to pack out these wonderfully intimate venues to capacity, leaving many moodily mooching to see bands they don't want to, regardless of wristbands.

Fashionsta Or Folky?
Oh, it will be so fashionable that entry may be judged upon haircuts alone. Not really, but the punters certainly won't be dressed for an average night down the pub.

Alcohol Of Choice
The Old Blue Last has been known to do an evil cocktail, but generally weak beer in old pubs is the order of the day.

Take Your Mum Score
1/10 – If your mum knew what east London was really like she may not let you go again, so best leave her at home. Besides, if you haven't heard of half of the bands, there's no way she has.

Cold War Kids - Live

Cold War Kids
Bloomsbury Ballroom, London
Monday 11th August 2008

When a sizeable group returns from a lengthy break it can take time to readjust and even longer for crowds to engage with unknown songs, but old hits can be relied on to see shows through. Not here: the new sounds not only fresh but filthy, the old sounds timely and timeless and the band sounds hungrier than ever.

Nevertheless, it starts in typical cobweb-blowing lethargy. After a bumbling blues blowout, ‘We Used To Vacation’ is dispatched early, a castaway of their strongest track that thuds around without ever really connecting, as if they’re aware the crowd won’t care when they know what’s coming. The rhythm’s stagnated, never flowing free, as Nathan Willett sounds restrained, tight. Guitarist Jonnie Russell’s mistimed bouncing doesn’t ring true, failing to ignite any relation. They’re building though, waking up.

Tonight is about new songs. Cold War Kids don’t merely debut them in the hope the watching hordes will approve; they bludgeon them with cut after cut of astonishingly stark but meaty music, ferocious in their relentlessness if not their demeanour. Not that Willett isn’t frightening. “I keep my anger on the end of a string that’s wrapped around my fist,” he barks, scraping under the surface. A broodier Josh Homme, he emanates masculinity without ever approaching aggressiveness, an all-American mystery. If you cut him he would bleed stars and stripes, but he’d probably get you first.

He’s beyond being the focal point, more a nucleus around which the other players’ electrons collide. Matt Maust’s eager eyes never avert far from Willett’s movements, his instrument often inches from the singer’s skull as ‘Mexican Dogs’ charging rock doesn’t get feet moving as much as legs stomping. Tempo alters in an instant, a stuttering piano twinkle twisting into a rollicking blues staple in the shake of a head, the twist of a string.

They play with a pained freedom, like it’s cost them something to be this joyfully reckless. Fan favourite ‘Hang Me Up To Dry’ illustrates this, managing to be utterly shambolic but completely gripping. Willett’s piano playing is far worse than amateur but thoughtlessly fitting, while a bottomless bass line reverberates around a song in no need of a hook but giving one anyway.

Character rings through in two flashes of lucid songsmithery, the beautifully coarse ‘Hospital Beds’ and self-proclaimed love song ‘Every Man I Fall For’. They’re silent moments, sweetly delivered without a hint of pity or indulgence, still sounding raw enough to break. The newbie is all vocal delivery, a deftly-controlled performance amidst the momentary calm.

Soon menace returns as the lights disappear and are replaced by torches glaring out from the stage. It’s time to be raucous, ‘Rubidoux’ a frantic snarl, new single ‘Something Is Not Right With Me’ adding a touch of pop to the growling rock of it’s predecessor and ‘Saint John’ a triumphant closer. Their second record, Loyalty To Loyalty, is out next month and if the first album’s filler is banished in favour of tonight’s grit and style, it won’t just be already-devoted fans buying it.

Bloc Party Interview

Bloc Party: Reading and waiting

Having been away for 18 months, Bloc Party coincided the launch of their new album with a few timely festival appearances.

Virtual Festivals caught up with Russell Lissack, the band's lead guitarist, at Reading Festival to find out why...

Virtual Festivals: Was the album always intended to come out now?
Russel Lissack: "No, it's just ended up that way, we've been working on it for ages. It was always going to be ready when it was ready. We were intending to play new songs at these festivals, but the album just happened to get done in time too."

VF: You're headlining Hydro Connect but you're also back at Reading and Leeds. You always seem to play there, how come?
RL: "They just keep asking us to come back. Plus Reading is a bit of a homecoming for us, so we love doing it."

VF: You're not quite bill-toppers at the biggest festivals yet, but are on the brink. Does it annoy you being in slots below the likes of The Killers?
RL: "We always end up playing with the same bands at festivals so you get to know them a bit, you get used to being below the Killers or whoever, it doesn't bother us. We've played a lot of festivals and the line-ups are often quite similar."

VF: What are festivals all about for you personally?
RL: "I don't do the camping thing, but the whole atmosphere of festivals is great. For me, festivals are a chance to watch bands I wouldn't get chance to elsewhere. We have support bands on tour, but that's usually the same every night. At festivals you get a bit of time to see who you want."

VF: So who are you looking forward to seeing here at Reading?
RL: "I just saw Santogold and really enjoyed it. I'm looking forward to Mystery Jets and Foals too. I really want to see Justice but they're on at the same time as us, so that isn't very likely."

VF: Speaking of electro acts, is it fair to say the new album has taken that direction?
RL: "People can make their own opinions about the album, it's out, judge for yourself. We wrote more in the studio than we ever have before, that was the main difference, but I think it's got lots of different elements – it's essentially a Bloc Party album."

VF: How will you feel if the album is a huge commercial hit and you became a lot more high-profile, personally?
RL: "I'll be chuffed if we got even bigger. But the type of band we are, we're never going to be pop stars."


VF: Standing here now though, you aren't being bothered by anybody and you're quite anonymous despite the fact in a few hours thousands of these same people will be watching you. How would you feel if that changed?
RL: "It would be a bit lame if everyone recognised me and was crowding round, but fortunately I don't think that's ever going to happen. I can still stand around and watch bands. I'm not the singer though, Kele maybe has to deal with that more, it's just frontman syndrome."

VF: How different is it playing festivals now compared to when you started? Are you tired of it?
RL: "It's not getting tired of playing the festival circuit, I still love doing it. I probably wouldn't go any more if we weren't playing, but we are and I'm enjoying being here."

VF: So are you intending to have a full-on assault on next summer's festivals as well as the few you're doing this year?
RL: "It's always exciting playing at festivals, you get such great reactions, I don't think I can't imagine not doing them."

VF: Can we expect new sets and a new show for next summer then?
RL: "There will be a mix, you know, the old songs still excite me too, as most of them get great receptions, but of course it's fun doing the new ones and seeing how they go."

VF: Will you be around before then, touring the UK?
RL: "We're touring the US and Canada pretty soon, but we won't be playing in England until the end of the year or next year probably, except the odd thing."

The odd thing turns out to be a gig at Kentish Town Forum on September 30th, while expect the band back for a full tour in the new year.