Young Fathers @ Norwich Arts Centre

How do you prepare for a 47-mile charity walk? a) Rest up with your feet being preened and primed for the journey? b) Stay at home packing waterproofs and dextrose tablets? Or c) skip down to the Norwich Arts Centre to see 2014’s Mercury Award Winners, Young Fathers? The answer, whenever involving this band, was always going to be ‘c’. But at their second jaunt to this beloved venue, would they deliver as they had before?   Young Fathers came to the NAC last year, and played to a criminally undersold gig. Without meaning to sound hipster about it, this was before they were widely known, before the Mercury panel had thrust them into recognition, but they were already getting a reputation. Fierce, moody – although I assure you, having had the honour of interviewing band member ‘G’ Hastings, that it’s just a focus they display, and a sensible caution, rather than stand offish-ness.   Tonight, the sign on the door says ‘SOLD OUT’, as it should be. Reserving my energy ahead of my charity walk, I arrive just in time for the main event. There’s a friction about the place – a not knowing what to expect.   We pack into a sweaty NAC huddle and wait for them to come on. From the off, they’re electric; Young Fathers move and jerk and shout and sing and wail their way through every track. I have never seen a band invest so much into every sound and movement as Young Fathers, and the memories of seeing them the first time are amplified by tonight’s soundtrack, which sees tracks from their new album, ‘White Men are Black Men Too’, interwoven seamlessly with last year’s favourites. I want to shake members of the crowd; rip off their self-awareness and tell them to move in any way the music makes them. I find it impossible not to move and clap and whistle as the three members sashay round the stage, hands all over each other, whipping their bodies around. Kayus Bankole is as electrifying as ever, his body contorting rhythmically with every beat. ‘Low’ is the highlight, with all three members absolutely gushing sweat against the backdrop of their percussionist banging three levels of hell out of the drums.   I was pumped, energised and motivated. I could have walked the 47 miles straight off, there and then. Young Fathers have no other modus operandi – in short: they deliver.