Black Lips
Islington Academy
16/02/2009

Is there any other band on the planet like Black Lips? At various times during their set tonight they spit out signposts of those who’ve paved the way from them – they veer from trailer trash cousins of The Strokes to a Brian Jonestown Massacre minus the inclination to drag the show long into the night – but they deliver on so many levels that it’d be criminal to let anyone else take the credit. The songs, the look and – hippy vernacular warning! – the vibe all go staggeringly hand-in-hand like some punchdrunk accident, like the band just happened to stumble their way onto brilliance on their way home from a barroom brawl. That they seem so effortlessly charming comes down to the fact that with them comes no pretence, their hard work – you don’t play Tel Aviv, Jerusalem and India in the same year without some self-prescribed sense of hard graft – focussed purely on the songs and touring, with image taking a backseat.

That’s not to say they ever look like they’re taking anything seriously, though – they bound about Islington Academy’s stage like this might be the first and last time they ever play, feeding off the frenzied reactions to ‘Katrina’ and ‘Bad Kids’, the latter of which has become their ‘Last Nite’ or ‘Seven Nation Army’, a roaring, riotous mission statement. Of the new songs, meanwhile, it’s the ragged Eagles-as-tramps racket of ‘Short Fuse’ and the Motown lounge-jangles of ‘I’ll Be With You’ that standout.

If their live show wasn’t such an attention-dominating thrill, you might start wondering about the giddy heights other bands could reach if they weren’t so concerned with cool. But perhaps that’s point – Black Lips just feel so utterly wild and uncaged that, in a world that plays it safe a little too often, their spluttery carnage-inducing garage-rock is a true, exhilarating alternative.

Niall Doherty