Shame - The Goa Express - The Umlauts

The Umlauts open the night. The band usually comprises of Maria Faldini and Annabelle Mödlinger Faldini jerking obliquely around the stage, but tonight Maria and other bandmate (Caroline violinist) Magdalena are absent. It’s worth noting this doesn’t take away from the band’s intent. Their angular Neue Deutsch Welle infused techno tensely fills the room with a certain unpredictability. Mödlinger anxiously dances as the other members contort themselves over their synths. Finishing with immensely catchy and tightly wound ‘Um Politik’. As the track progresses, the beats get more frenetic, Modlinger screams ‘Um Politik’ over and over to an irresistibly danceable rhythm section. Mödlinger wears a Purple Rain Prince t-shirt while Alex Berry (keyboardist) shows off a 'Perverted By Language' Fall shirt: it makes their modus operandi clear.

Following on from The Umlauts is The-hotly-tipped The Goa Express. With producers ranging from Nathan Saoudi (Fat White Family) to star-studded producer Ross Orton, they don’t quite sound as you’d expect. They’re a lot more anthemic, with vocal hooks that are reminiscent of scores of 90s bands. They tear through the set with limited chat and show off their glimmering guitar music with great agility.

As the lights go down, ‘YMCA’ blasts out of the PA and on comes the band. Before long they’ve erupted into a frantic version of Alphabet, punters already launching themselves around at high speeds. What stands out most with the new material throughout the set is the sheer velocity of the performance. Charlie veers between shit-eating grin and menacing glare as he jaggedly jolts his body to the taut guitar riffs. Bassist Josh Finerty hasn’t lost is lust for motion either, launching himself across the stage, bass in hand. It’s remarkable he doesn’t hit anyone. It’s like an invisible elastic band is determining his movements and he’s having a blast of it.
Throughout the set Charlie launches himself across the crowd. Slower tracks break up the violent freneticism. Angie is as moving as ever, but the Drunk Tank Pink songs do sit apart from those from Songs of Praise – they’re tighter and sound more matured. For instance, Snow Day takes a darker edge in the slow-song department – Charlie sits by the drumkit, shrouded by dimmed lights, the stage appearing empty before slowly lighting up as the guitars build into a more emotional crescendo.

After an explosive rendition of their so-called ‘new number’ One Rizla, they close with a frantic, feedback-filled version of Station Wagon. It seems like a band who initially exploded onto the scene have got their momentum back and it’s all forwards.