First Aid Kit @ UEA
Delightful, actually.
As I looked out over the watercolour-like sea of faces in the LCR I was filled with a sense calm, everything was as it should be. Beige and palely opaque. The light danced around the room, bouncing from pint to Superdry hoodie to tapping toe to nodding head. The musky aroma of Next Pour Homme sent me into a hazy trance and I was giddy from the fumes of Jack Daniels and the stench of standardised counter-culture.
I could see nothing. This was to upset me for the duration of the performance but not as much as you might expect, other senses take over so they say and I relaxed into the sonic vibrations of Graham Norton’s new favourite band. First Aid Kit write killer tunes, there's no denying it. Resonant harmonies, only sisters can create, flowed through me like amber nectar and from time to time served to wash away the streak of observance that left me confident in the knowledge that I was surrounded by people who “don't get out much”.
The set design was quite something. So I heard. I glimpsed the edge of something gold whilst I listened to a completely un-amplified version of an early song. It had the makings of an impressive spectacle, but who knows?
There was a nod to Jack White with whom First Aid Kit have recorded and released. I dread the Acknowledgment Whoop and yet, as sure as the night becomes the day, it arrives. The mention of a vaguely left of mainstream personality is always followed by the Acknowledgment Whoop. Supported by a solid base of inverted faux elitism and Foo Fighters CDs. Real rockers.
The music was solid, smooth, gentle, sharp. The performance was strong, professional, endearing, slick. The sound was a joy, crisp and clear but not sterile, the vocals were cleverly and dynamically engineered and every instrument had its textural purpose, all well executed. Delightful, actually.
