Eagles of Death Metal @ UEA

In a not initially very full LCR, a mixed bag of an audience (quite a lot of tender students, quite a lot of middle aged rockers) patiently await the arrival of Eagles of Death Metal tonight. The world outside the LCR is shrouded in dense fog, but we’re hoping that some bad ass rock music will cut through the pea souper and right into our hearts.

First support Feverist are remarkably good. With large nods towards The National, Arcade Fire and Killers, they’re destined for arenas, mark my words. The drummer in particular was most excellent, and there was lots of energy and effort poring from the stage. There was a real variety between and within the songs which keep everything very fresh and unexpected in an Elbow kind of a way. Keep your eye on them.

Next up, rock duo White Miles. Not so interesting, although they play capably and with passion it doesn’t really cut the mustard tonight, although some in the audience seem pretty keen on them. The songs are clichéd and dull, with a few sparse, impressive moments of clarity amidst the sludge. I feel they need to work on their sound song-by-song, and find their own unique strength therein.

We already know some time EODM-er/QOTSA’s Josh Homme is at home. He’s not travelled across the Atlantic to see us this time. Whatever. We’ve got front man Boots Electric/Jesse "The Devil" Hughes to keep us busy for now. Jesse’s an intriguing character. An ordained minister and Republican Christian, he makes brash, sexy-as-fuck desert rock with a nod to Little Richard that virtually demands you shake your thang with your zipper down, and screw any consequences. He even tells us he got UEA’s Vice Chancellor high earlier in the day. He’s the whole package in one redneck pair of braces, glasses and a natty cape. There’s a snappy camp side to him as well that comes through, and although EODM were started as a sort of joke originally, there is a beefy, wild, soaring side to the music alongside the joyful fuckery.

As soon as Jesse appears onstage there is huge excitement on the dance floor, which is now considerably full. Really, A HELLA excitement. And as soon as the first few notes whip through the crowd, a very lively mosh pit starts up that just won’t quit all night. It’s thrilling. Jesse is visibly delighted and touched at boys jumping on each other shoulders and singing along to the lyrics. There’s an aura of both raw power and kindly, fond regard coming from one of the most energetic front men in rock today. They race through some of their very best tracks, including the swaggering Complexity, the chorus-led Cherry Cola and the cover of Duran Duran’s Save a Prayer that features on the latest album. The crowd know many of the lyrics from most of the songs which is always heartening, and there’s plenty of communication, both verbal and physical between the band and the crowd. There are even a couple of requests played in the encore, in which Jesse plays a few solo guitar numbers including a cover of Brown Sugar, followed by a play-off between guitars which, although entertaining, makes the momentum of the night plummet. Perhaps it would have been wiser to save some of those rock n roll humdingers for last to leave us on an orgasmic high. Kudos to the Flying V wielding, ZZ Top beard sporting Dave Catching, though, who is an absolute bitch at giving us stonking guitar solos through the night.

As we leave the floor to find our way home through the gathering clouds outside, I see five young guys wrestling over Jesse’s bright pink t shirt which he threw into the crowd earlier. Literally wrestling. The t shirt rips. The passion of the evening has imbued us all with the essence of rock n roll. Fun, fighting, freedom, fucking and fog. That’s what Eagles of Death Metal were all about tonight.