It was with a shiver I
ventured out into a bleak and rainy night to witness San Franciscan
duo Two Gallants swing by the Brudenell, admittedly knowing very little
about them except for their reputation for being perhaps bleaker than
the evening. With a capacity crowd queuing long before doors opened,
my interest was well and truly piqued.
Support came in the
form of Brighton based grungster Theo Verney, playing to a largely
disinterested crowd eager for the main event. In fairness, he did
little to win them over. Opening with what sounded like Bleach era
Nirvana, the set ran the gamut from Pearl Jam's worst excesses, by
way of bad Led Zeppelin pastiche to a fizzy Vaselines-a-like track
that was almost bearable. Like a group of VI formers wearing their
influences excitedly on their sleeves, without realising that all
they've done is copy their heroes, Theo and his band were haphazard
genre hopping at its worst, and a prime example of how, in this
internet age, very few acts are given the chance to brew their
influences and come out the other side with a fully formed vision.
The only saving grace was the obscenely talented drummer, who despite
everything managed to string the whole thing together with a modicum
of passion, in direct contrast to Theo's overly chummy stage
presence.
Enter then, Two
Gallants. Touring in support of their fifth studio effort, We Are
Undone, they sit at an intersection of soulful blues, soaring gothic
sparseness and shuddering, uncomfortably honest folk rock. Making a
ridiculous amount of noise for two people, but with a stylised
purposefulness, they took to the stage with first track Reflections
of the Marionette, any lingering chatter of the audience soon
silenced. This lament to lost love is suffocating in its unapologetic
bitterness. Like a heartbroken friend crying on you in a club toilet,
it's stifling, and you want to run away, but ultimately, by the time
it's over, you're glad to have been there.
Partially disguising
their bleakness in beautiful, haunting melody, the snarling
confessions pack a heavier punch when they eventually sneak through.
What they offer is a soundscape as epic and as floundering as modern
life, a intricate yet simply proffered depiction of what it is to be
human now. Famed for their anti gentrification stance, with the Bay
Area unrecognisable from the hometown of their youth, they have more
than most to say about urban life and the chasm between those at the
top and bottom of society. This despair is captured perfectly on The
Prodigal Son and main set closer We Are Undone. Whilst the vocals do
occasionally veer bizarrely into Dennis Locorriere territory, they
are technically perfect, a musicians band in every sense.
There's a sea shanty
element to tracks such as Steady Rolling, in the truest folky
presentation of the genre, as documenters of their time rather than
analysers, and the crowd lapped it up. The problem with a band at
this stage of their career is that vast swathes of your audience are
there to hear their favourites, and there was a slight feeling of
impatience and eventual relief when the chance to sing along arrived.
As a band this must be claustrophobic. Although the newer songs lack
the vitality of the older, for me they were the most interesting to
watch, a stark, scorched earth Americana.
Weaving a modern
tapestry, Two Gallants speak to a global disaffectedness. No hope, no
solutions, just a depth of emotion and technical proficiency not
often seen in the live performance; dealing in moments, not
manifesto. Like that bit on the boat on the way back from Alcatraz,
when you forget you've been to what is essentially Beamish with
headsets; when the cold spray hits your face, you look into the murky
depths of the Pacific ocean, and for a second its overwhelming and
humanising and you realise with a start how desperate those escapees
must have been. That's the feeling that watching Two Gallants gives.
It's unbearable and stifling, but ultimately, you're glad to have
been there.
Two Gallants Official
Watch 'Incidental'
