Within seconds of picking up my pass for The Great Escape, I had already had the most fittingly Brighton experience imaginable: I found myself surrounded, with Chris TT on one side, and the chaps from Modern Toss on the other. Then I looked behind me to find a man dressed entirely in pink (including shoes), carrying a ’50s style telephone handset. Obviously.
Thursday mainly involved developing systems to help navigate the town’s ridiculously complicated street system. At one point in the evening I realised I had been looking for a venue for almost 25 minutes, only to realise that I was standing outside it. Classy.
Three of the best from Thursday:
If I don’t see anything else this weekend, it almost won’t matter. Luke Abbott was absolutely glorious; beautiful, intricately constructed arpeggios delivered with significantly more bass than is present on Holkham Drones. This was heavier, more danceable than the times I have seen him previously, and it was all the better for it. Almost certainly the set of the weekend.
On just before Luke Abbott at the lovely Green Door Store, the new incarnation of worriedaboutsatan demonstrated what they’ve been doing in their bedrooms for the last few months: making beats. Ghosting Season is a far more extraverted affair than the duo’s previous efforts, with the complex, stuttering snares that characterised Arrivals meeting something that often approached four-on-the-floor kicks. The venue’s soundsystem struggled to cope, but with a decent PA this could be very special indeed.
Brasstronaut are criminally underrated. The Canadian act’s debut album, while getting decent reviews, didn’t get the traction it deserves. This is a band that should be headlining festivals; the sort of band that people will fall unconsolably in love with after seeing them live. The unique instrumentation (which includes an electronic medlodica-cum-oboe-thing), clever arrangements, and hilariously self-aware lyrics all help to flesh out what are, at heart, incredibly catchy, fantastically inventive pop songs. Happily, their show at Komedia was heaving. A sign, I’d wager, of things to come.