Times New Viking/Yuck/Mazes
The Rest Is Noise, London
26/04/2010

A curious bill lures The Fly to Brixton’s The Rest Is Noise as the charmingly meek, melodic sounds of newcomers Mazes and Yuck shuffle uncomfortably alongside the shambolic, frenzied Times New Viking.

Opening to a depleted room, Mazes soon coax the bespectacled, cardigan-ed, satchel-adorning patrons out from behind their pints with a display of easy charm and bass-heavy Pavement-inspired refrains. Despite only having played a handful of London shows, this Manchester-based trio rightly deserve a bigger audience, their sweetly enthusiastic PoMo rock the type of fare to make big hairy man-types giddy with nostalgia.

Yuck command the stage in the same vein, all awkward legs and hunched shoulders. Rising from the ashes of the now defunct Cajun Dance Party, this four piece hark back to the early 90′s, marrying Sonic Youth, Swervedriver and Dinosaur Jr. With tight, whining guitars, thumping drum beats, and melancholic bass lines, Yuck put many more seasoned bands to shame. Vocalist Danny shifts from innocent to hysterical in a single breath, as the band weave densely layered tapestries in perfect synchronisation. Yuck sleepily peer through their hair as the set ends, only seeming to realise then that other people have been listening.

Headliners Times New Viking unleash their particular brand of aural filth on the anticipatory crowd during a relentless and frenetic 20-song headlining set, barely pausing for breath. At times crossing the lo-fi vs. unintelligible divide, they battle against unsatisfactory vocal levels, over-heating equipment and an uber-zealous guitarist (intent on drowning out drummer Adam’s betwixt-song chat with a never ending stream of noodling) to produce an hour-long epic that sends the assembled crowd into a quiet frenzy. Strangled yelps and impassioned vocals force themselves through distorted guitars and fiercely tribal drums as the band launch their musical assault with unabashed fury.

Reeking of confidence, TNV care not for accuracy and gloss, but rather revel in their own tremulous noise, the chaos they cause and the bodies they move. They may be less melodic than their billed contemporaries, yet Times New Viking’s sheer joy and exuberance is palpable and beautifully unrestrained.

Annette Barlow