Wild Beasts @ Koko: It’s not for the cock, its for howling through the night

Wild Beasts- Koko, Camden- 4/03/2010

Girls. Boys. Drinking. Love. Fighting. Crying over that lost love again. Shocking me like an electric eel. Turning me on with your electric feel. I’m not saying the current crop of bands aren’t up to much, but these are maybe some of the common themes which they like to sing about that ties them loosely together. It would be hard to put Wild Beasts, the best-and probably only- thing of note to come out of the Lake District, in that category though. With the charm of an eccentric intellectual uncle who checked his sanity out years ago, Wild Beasts casually sing of such things as extra-sensory perception, flaccid cocks and Freudian slips.

It’s not just the preposterous pomp of the lyrical themes that elevate Wild Beasts a considerable height above the peers of course. It’s also in an endless number of other things; from the ridiculous voice of Hayden Thorpe- sometimes genuinely touching but sometimes even more genuinely disturbing; from the different instruments which know each other so intimately; and from the perfect balance of accessibility and complete oddball quirks.

Tonight, in the old theatre style setting of Camden’s Koko, the sense of genuine excitement could not be more intense as the band walk onto the stage. ‘The Funpowder Plot’ is the perfect opener; twisting and revealing itself gently as some sort of mission statement that, with all the booty calls and majestic guitars, tonight’s show is going to be as deep as it is flamboyant.

After comfortably taking the reigns as lead singer for a good couple of songs, it’s not until the dark ‘Two Dancers’ that sees Thorpe make way for Tom Fleming to take his place before the microphone. Striding in a quietly assured and infinitely manlier manner, Fleming begins to sing his low, captivating baritone. ‘Two Dancers’, with its direct references to ‘His dancing cock/ down by his knees’, could almost be kind of funny if it wasn’t so totally fucking disarming. Here we have a man singing in dark detail about gang rape to a room full of mesmerised people. A fucking Noah and The Whale gig this aint.

It’s not all morbidly fascinating stuff though, and far from it. ‘Brave Bulging Buoyant Clairvoyants’, for example, sees the band take their big old brains and use them for the power of ludicrous fun, and ‘All The King’s Men’- incidentally having some the best backing vocals ever committed to tape- swings back and forth in giddy enjoyment with its overlapping of pristine, shimmering guitars and stylish vocal style.

As the band finish their set having put in a good shift, to use their northern work ethic sensibilities, it seems as if they’ve only been on for about a quarter of an hour. Time flies though… Coming back on for an encore, they play the two typically grandiose closers of both their albums; ‘Empty Nest’ and ‘Cheerio Chaps Cheerio Goodbye’. The latter couldn’t be more perfect. Almost like a nice summary of the gig that preceded it, the song flirts for a while with Thorpe’s countertenor voice and the cheeky guitar strums toying with the crowd before breaking out into an all singing, all dancing, gloriously uplifting climax. And then it’s all sadly over, confirming, if there was any need for conformation, that Wild Beasts are a truly Special Band. Perhaps, the most special in the country.