Toro y Moi – CAMP Basement 19/07/2010

There’s a fine line between the atmospherically authentic and the depressingly realistic. Before I escaped to London I imagined strolling through the Soho streets with a frenetic jazz-freak-beat soundtrack rolling around my head. I would pass the painted ladies who high-fived me with their eyes from the Berwick Street doorways where every second shop front was a espresso bar serving the finest quality double shots.

The reality was somewhat more sobering: chemically-bleached early morning streets with tired looking ‘models’ from Albania drinking overpriced, watery coffee and, at one point in my second year here, a pub bombing that left 3 dead and 70 wounded.

So the concept of a makeshift gig venue constructed in the basement of an office block sounds cool, if a little clichéd, no? While there’s something weirdly eco about the use of space and a little bit hipsterish about setting it on the edge of the Old Street roundabout, the reality, as per usual, is less successful. CAMP Basement is perhaps the worst addition to London’s roster of venues since they rebranded the Highbury Garage in tithe to an energy drink. No ventilation. Shitty sound. A floorspace so un-ergonomic that it would give a Swede nightmares.

And so it comes to pass that what could have been a great first London show by South Carolina’s Toro Y Moi is ruined by the inferior facilities of a poorly-chosen venue.

Through a fuggy, overblown mix –  drums too high and everything else just not quite right – the tiny frame of Chaz Bundick, the man behind Toro Y Moi, attempts to reproduce the impressive sounds of Causers of This with limited success. Not that many care – the blissed up fanboys at the front are clearly such devotees of the record, knowing every word and swaying to the nuanced beats. It’s those of us who are less inebriated that appear to be more affected.

To be fair, this is Bundick’s first show and the similarly-creaky sound quality of the support acts confirms that the fault isn’t down to the bands. Still, it takes an almost ubermenschian effort to overlook the layers of fault obfuscating Toro’s sublime songs. I manage it with ‘Blessa’ but struggle through the rest of the set and leave earlier than planned, spilling out onto the stress with a number of other dissatisfied customers as Bundick tears into ‘Low Shoulder’.

There’s a point to be made here: are promoters attuned to providing the most accommodating space for the bands they’re booking? In this case, I’d say not. I’m aware of a handful of folk who have sworn never to grace the floor of CAMP Basement for all eternity after tonight.

More profoundly, several of those same good people left the show with a sense of real disappointment; a betrayal that such an outstanding record wasn’t given the space and facilty to breathe. Thankfully, Bundick is back later this year and booked in for a night at Cargo where he’ll no doubt undo these wrongs.