The genteel north London of the Roundhouse isn’t the obvious venue for a ladtronica and bloke rock band. Especially one that’s recently come from headlining Glastonbury and is used to open horizons, and sound systems more dangerously ramped-up than Primrose Hill house prices. By giving a performance that wowed an audience of mainly young couples, Kasabian showed a character and identity that’s more nuanced than the standard hairy bloke depiction allows.
They played two sets, with a first set that seemed deliberately lower-key and less spectacular than the second, as if they were supporting themselves. Nothing is too meta for a band that performs in front of a pink screen saying “canister”. The first set drew on songs from across their career, including pieces like “Running Battle” and “I.D” from their first album. They got the audience moving, but didn’t have the familiarity of their recent work. For the second set the lighting was enhanced with a huge pink screen, designed to match the artwork for the album they released earlier this year, 48:13. As well as displaying gnomic slogans (from the surreal, “maggot munch”, through to the muso philosophising of “bin bag”, on Serge Pizzorno’s T-shirt) the screen’s strong backlighting effect sometimes silhouetted the band rather romantically, while the ejaculation of spumes of beer, arcing their way across the wall of light, brought the spectacle back down to earth.
Musically, the second set was a combination of this year’s album and 2011’s Velociraptor!. On disc, the stylistic variety comes through more clearly: the electronica, the pop cadences, the moments of rap, the ambient sounds, or the snatches of piano ballad that Kasabian borrow to give their songs a wider appeal. Live, some of this is overwhelmed by the need to keep the guitar groove going strong, and with only a few exceptions such as the acoustic country jangle of “Goodbye Kiss”, pounding guitar chords take over.
Kasabian are self-aware enough to maintain a sense of theatre everywhere
This makes the live gigs danceable. Anyone can dance to Kasabian’s music. If the rhythm doesn’t make it easy enough, lead singer Tom Meighan will often talk you through the moves. So all-consuming does the mood become at times, that the warm, dark, round space and comforting, regular thud almost begin to feel like a womb. Granted, you’d be worried for a mother whose heartbeat sounded Serge Pizzorno’s guitar, but as the whole room moved together, a sense of deep contentment took hold.
The rock world doesn’t lack for hairy blokes who thrash guitars, but most of those blokes believe their own hype. Kasabian are self-aware enough to maintain a sense of theatre everywhere, not just in the slogans and silliness, but also some of the lyrics, such as, from an early version of “Eez-eh”, now slightly altered: “Horsemeat in the burgers, people commit murders, everyone’s on bugle, we’re being watched by Google.” Even more, they understand that their Friday night audience wants to dance until they forget.
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