Sonic Youth, London Scala

April 27th, 2009

JOSEPH ROWAN:

Standing in the scrum that is the floor of the unsurprisingly packed Scala I am gripped by a powerful sense of occasion. After all this is a venue much smaller than the mighty Sonic Youth, one of my very favourite bands ever, are probably used to playing. It is the first gig I’ve attended that was announced semi-secretly the day before tickets went on sale, the first gig that I’ve actually got up early to buy tickets for, in a rush of nerves and excitement.

Thus it is incredibly gratifying that the set turns out to be nothing short of magnificent, even life-affirming. People who have seen the band back in the ’80s say it is the most vital and energetic they’d ever seen them. Indeed, Thurston Moore et al. throw themselves around with reckless abandon and new full-time member Mark Ibold seems to be having as much fun as the rest of the group, whilst also adding greatly to the sound.

Of the set itself, a lot of material is taken from forthcoming full-length The Eternal, which is sounding very promising indeed: ‘No Way’ and the recently-made-available-to-download ‘Sacred Trickster’ are particular highlights. Because of the high proportion of new songs, the evening takes a while to get going, but once the older material comes out the band are unstoppable. A thrilling ‘Hey Joni’ first got all the hipsters in the pit throwing themselves about with surprising force, ‘Schizophrenia’ is sublimey brilliant and the Daydream Nation double of ‘The Sprawl’ and ‘Cross The Breeze’ is possibly the best moment of the night. As for the encores, a couple of Confusion Is Sex tracks kick off the proceedings, with ‘Brother James’ in particular sounding much more urgent and exciting than on record, before a positively riotous ‘Kool Thing’ brings the evening to a heady close.

Of course, one will always have minor niggles about a setlist, especially for a band that have been around for as long as Sonic Youth. I, for one, would love to see ‘Teen Age Riot’ or ‘Expressway To Yr. Skull’, but I can’t really ask for more from the evening. It is truly awe-inspiring to see a band who’ve been going for well over 25 years still clearly enjoy playing music so much, and still rocking so hard. And long may they continue, I say.

PHILLIP BLOOMFIELD:

There is almost nowhere sweatier than the Scala on a gig night. The very walls seem to drip salty residue when the place is sold out, and of course, tonight being an exclusive, intimate Sonic Youth show; it is very much sold out.

Not that sweat is something we’d elect to remove from any Sonic Youth gig – it’s a core component of their demeanour, whether flying off Thurston Moore’s long hair as he slams and wheels his guitar around on stage, or just the glisten on the skin of the girl next you, who’s a little drunk and very excited. Sweat, you might say, is an essential part of the ‘alternative’ cocktail. It makes you feel like the nineties are back again, throwing yourself around front and centre as the band kick up a racket on stage, Lee Ranaldo’s shock of white hair dancing and bobbing above the froth of the crowd, Kim Gordon skipping and whirling across stage like a girl at least half her age, while Mark Ibold grins and just looks happy to be there.

They start out slow; tentatively shifting through the gears, and the material on display tonight is very definitely a fan’s set – heavy on Confusion is Sex no-wave and searing Daydream Nation material, but dotted with muscular sounding new tracks, including a slashy take on new single, riot grrl stomper ‘Sacred Trickster’. If at first some are disappointed by the lack of more delicacy from more recent albums, their cries are trampled under the haze and howl of feedback before they’re dragged into the tautness and the menace of the show. ‘Bull in the Heather’ gets an early outing, Thurston shimmying against an amp as Kim deadpans, and an eerie ‘Tom Violence’ scrapes out of the monitor stacks. A personal highlight is t feedback heavy ‘The Sprawl’ winding its way downstream before sliding into a frenetic ‘’Cross the Breeze’, which sends the front of the crowd into a sweaty, screaming bouncing mass of bodies. An earthshattering ‘Brother James’ as an encore sees Lee swing his guitar like an axe as Thurston batters his six string with the inevitable spare drumstick – now morphed from tuning aid to makeshift plectrum.

It’s when the band return for a second time to the stage to play the effortlessly anthemic ‘Kool Thing’ (sadly without Chuck D bounding onstage), that the realisation dawns just how special this is. When a band can knock out a hit like that and still make it feel extraordinary and vital enough for 800 odd people to pay £30 to come and get really sweaty just to enjoy it, they are a very special band indeed.