I spend my life chasing down new bands, it’s what I do, like some sort of dog’s bollock licking compulsion. There are some that break big and international (think LDR) and there are those of a more cultish ilk. Of the latter, I cannot recall in the last ten years quite as much groundswell as there is right now about Savages. You won’t read about them yet in the Sun, that’ll come later. At the dirty end of things though, the stories are already telling themselves, of the not-for-profit showcase gig in the backroom of a London pub where with one well placed sneeze you could have infected 99% of the heads of the capital’s record labels. Or their sole release to date, the 7″ of ‘Husbands’, gone back for a second pressing after something like 7 weeks. Even up here in the rainy North West (hey, where isn’t these days) something was afoot – anxious enquiries from normally cool as cucumber music writers about the ticket situation, texts about set times. This translated on the night to a queue down the stairs at Leaf and out into Bold Street, an unusual situation for Liverpool, and a knot of out of town photographers insinuating themselves up front between crowd and stage.
As if to mark it out as a night of significance, local openers Death At Sea played out of their skins. I’ve seen them before – they’re an excellent developing band; confident and happy in front of a home crowd. Whether it was the pressure of comparison with two visiting bands I don’t know, but they were 50% better than last time round.
You might have almost missed it, but this short tour, whilst undoubtedly focussed on Savages, also had along a band who in other circumstances might have been enjoying almost the same amount of press adulation. Palma Violets came on and immediately and throughout the set reminded me of stories I’ve heard of the Libertines in their early days, before it all went a bit predictable; that ability to effortlessly focus all attention in the room on them and them alone. You can make comparisons to the Horrors or a dozen more if you must, but what struck most forcibly was the slouching, louche and spasmodic energy, as bass player Chilli Jesson seems goaded to nip forward repeatedly like a terrier going on the attack, the object of his attentions being singer and guitar player Sam Fryer. When this becomes overplayed, the two collide and end up playing for moments entangled and stuck together, heads on each others shoulders like Ali and Frazier. It was hardly a surprise to find out that their night ended when they were (allegedly) locked up by Merseyside’s finest for some post-gig japery, and should we even bother mentioning that the drummer played with no trousers on and no-one seemed to care or notice.
Palma Violets – scroll down for more photos
Savages are the reason we are here though, why the front row consists 75% of people who saw them last night as well, at their Manchester gig, and 50% of people that have followed them up from London. I spend some time looking at the crowd, and there’s a definite division. I mean, attention is being fervently paid as far back as I can see, but round about row three, there’s a bit of a break between the brigade up front who’ve already lost their hearts to this all-female four piece, and those who are still getting used to the idea. It’s also an interesting crowd in its mix, with a fair smattering of the (literally) well heeled curious.
Savages – scroll down for more photos
They come on and play. The comparison with those Violet boys is all the starker as they are both mining the same post punk vein. Jehnny Beth and the girls are all control, not wild, at least not outwardly. It’s when you start to see the intensity in Jehnny’s spasming, the veins standing out, that you understand that there is something untamed in there. It’s pulsing and intense. I keep wanting to say motorik, but I really mean is almost mechanical in its beat. Undoubtedly being crammed half onto the small stage and having my head stuck in in bass player Ayse Hassan’s stage monitor helps in one respect. Much as I have fought shy of those Joy Div references, never have I heard a bass player sounding more Hook-ish, particularly in apparently earlier songs such as ‘Husbands’. You might think it’s all about Jehnny, those moments of disdainful hauteur; whereas rarely have I come out of a gig to also hear (a) so much hot debrief of what just went on or (b) so much reference to the rest of the band, to the bass and drums in particular. They have clearly come out of the traps already very accomplished even if at this stage they have only enough material for a forty minute set, and whether the lack of encore is due to this or punk sensibility is anybody’s guess.
The million dollar question then is the inevitable one of hype versus reality. No, Savages are not the second coming of Christ. What is clear though is that they are thrilling and compelling, and more importantly, have huge ability to convert the casual to instant devotees. Hook in and hang on.
