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The Windmill, Brixton
Good Friday, 14th April 2017
3pm till late

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Gig Review

The Bats
Brixton Windmill & London ICA

Article written by Ged M - Jun 12, 2009

Robert Scott: the Bats

Do bats migrate? If so, these Bats have the shortest season with just three London gigs on two nights before decamping for Europe. Sometimes it’s useful to be reminded we’re not quite the centre of the universe. The first night at the Windmill seems like a homecoming – the place is packed with stocky Kiwis, greeting the band with strange Antipodean rituals (no nose-rubbing though). No wonder New Zealanders are, in the title of the seminal NZ 80s compilation, “outnumbered by sheep”; it seems like they’re all over here. The Windmill set is long, majoring on ‘The Guilty Office’ but taking in ‘At The National Grid’ and earlier landmarks, and blithely crashing the curfew. We have to leave before the end, well before the haka starts, but we’re blown away by the powerfully simple songwriting, Kaye Woodward’s outstanding guitar tricks and Robert Scott’s dry wit. The ICA set the next night is more concentrated, with older tracks like ‘North By North’ and the magnificent ‘Claudine’, first released in the mid-80s on ‘And Here Is …”Music From The Fireside”’. They’re legends but the new album shows they can still cut it.

Support at the Windmill comes first from Matthew Sawyer & The Ghosts, a three piece tonight (guitar, cello and bass drum), with Matthew’s ethereal singing and simple, heartbreaking constructions reminding you of Television Personalities. Second up is My Sad Captains, playing what must be their 200th Windmill gig. Their Americana-laced, slightly downbeat golden guitar pop leaves us salivating for June’s album release. The following night at the ICA, on the other hand, the Bats are sandwiched between a very portly Comet Gain (“comet weight gain” from the look of Feck) and Crystal Stilts. Comet Gain’s sound seems a bit unbalanced but they’re still great – the mix of ‘Beautiful Despair’ might be a bit too booming but the perfect laidback groove of ‘Herbert Hunke’ is spectacularly seedy. As ever, they flirt with immortality but settle for infamy. Crystal Stilts seem to struggle with sound onstage too but their New York rumble sounds great to these ears as all the musical archetypes of that city (the Dolls, the Cramps, Suicide) come to life. Finest moments come from the relentless and unstoppable Frankie on drums and from the garrulous Kyle Forrester, sometime member of Ladybug Transistor and clearly the keyboards-for-hire guy, who placates some intoxicated bug-eyed weirdos in the audience with some impromptu t-shirt selling offers. Weird night/ great sounds.

Links:
http://homepages.paradise.net.nz/thebats/
http://www.myspace.com/thebatsnz