Though audience numbers
seem lower than those of their last visit, and the mood more respectful that
jubilant, it’s clear Animal Collective command a loyal following. Few of who
are intrigued enough to arrive early for support act Africa HiTech; a duo working a laptop, turntables, a mixer and a
small synth. Starting out by meshing soundscapes and soulful singing over some
Kompakt style minimalist techno, we’re soon treated to a journey through 90s
dance music, complete with 80s new wave sampling. Beats become more complex as
bubbling synth lines and squelchy sine waves ride heavily compressed beats and
occasional looped raps. It’s oddly nostalgic and incredibly infectious.
The crowd packs in as 9:45 approaches.
Lights dim, chatter is replaced with cheers as radio samples ricochet and
flickering saturated projections light the stage, lined with large inflatable
glowing teeth and arching tentacles. The four members emerge to a rise in cheers
and immediately begin tweaking dials, pushing buttons and gently drumming. Easing
into Rosie Oh, the projections move from being vibrant patterns to cut-up nature
documentaries and clips from bucolic animated films. Drummer Noah Lennox takes
the lead vocals and his voice is unusually strong and clear. Keyboardist Avey
Tare leads us through almost every other song in the set, from the ensuing Today’s Supernatural on; his vocals
style tends more toward manic passion than guitarist Josh Dibb’s more grounded
delivery and Lennox’s more varied expressiveness.
Recent single Honeycomb and most of latest album Centipede Hz get an airing, and though
the crowd responds vocally, there is little physical involvement. Animal
Collective show a near pathological fear of silence as songs segue into and out
of each other, and disappear into patches of sprawling atonal and percussive
chaos. These are gleefully disorientating at times, but just as often suffocating
and meandering, a superfluity of ideas and their clumsy merging betrays a lack
of editing that seems oddly appropriate for this age of three-hour movies. It’s
a lack of rigour apparent in the songwriting too; many songs sound more like four
people exploring a vague theme rather than a band fleshing out a song. Passages
of fantastic loping polyrhythms underscore many of the newer songs (like Moonjock and Monkey Riches) but, unlike their finer moments, there seems to be
no strong personality or theme, though the colour scheme of saturated red and
fluro pink and green is bold and original. The appearance of older track Lion in a Coma wakes the crowd and its
space, vocal harmonies and simpler rhythms stand in stark contrast. The same is
true for 2009’s Brother Sport, which triggers
an explosion of glee in the crowd, a feeling capitalized on by its extended
rave-like outro and merge into set-closing thrill of Peacebone. Returning for an encore that features a new unnamed
song, a boisterous take on My Girls and
the Centipede Hz track Amanita the band leave us sated for
another year and, it seems, another album.
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