Suuns/ Besnard Lakes

Deaf Institute, Manchester 18/11/11

I don’t go to gigs on my own out of choice, having someone along to share the experience is always preferable. But I value my solitude and I can think of no better environment to free myself of ‘life’ than a concert at which I don’t know anyone and I don’t have to worry about anyone but myself. No positioning to be bothered about or fetching drinks from the bar – just in and out and a chance to concentrate on the music. I’m clearly not alone in this. I always spot men (it’s always men) doing the same thing  - we are no longer ashamed. I rarely pass on the chance to see a band because I don’t have anyone to go with.

So a double bill of Suuns and the Besnard Lakes was a must see at the Deaf Institute in Manchester last Friday. I’d seen both bands before – Canadians who channel a multitude of influences from 70s psychedelia, Beach Boys harmonies and, in the case of Suuns, dance beats that also echo the likes of The Cure and  Joy Division. The music scene is littered with artists who draw on fragments of this and that and end up re-cycling rather than re-inventing but both these bands have a very new and vibrant message to convey. I get there just before 9pm, as Suuns are plugging in their equipment.

The Deaf Institute is a second floor former lecture theatre with a bank of seats to the right and a huge glitter ball that hangs low from the vaulted ceiling. A bar down the side means that with around 150 people it feels full. I’m about six feet from the tiny stage. The last time I’d seen Suuns at the Green Man Festival in August they were shrouded in dry ice so it’s curious to see how young and fresh-faced they actually are. Their music is dark and broody and they play six songs in 30 minutes -  intense but propulsive and utterly addictive in its developing crescendos and climaxes. A new song (no.4) builds and builds, seemingly comprised of around four or five contrasting suites, gathering pace and then finishing in a volcanic overspill of energy. Breathless stuff.

A few Suuns fans leave, which is a shame as Besnard Lakes are cut from the same cloth. A bit older and more chilled out their songs are tightly structured anthems that make use of  Jace Lasek's startling falsetto. He is a dead ringer for Ian Hunter but even Mott The Hoople didn’t generate this degree of concentrated intensity. I’ve seldom seen a drummer hit so hard and towards the climax of  'Chicago Train' I fear for the structural integrity of the riser. An excessive use of dry ice means that the band is shrouded in fog for much of the set but as it clears they set their sights on another full throttle finale and deliver it with a huge combination of noise and lights. There is an ambition and an intellectual weight to this band  - I can imagine them gathering together later to discuss the finer points of Ulysses or Crime and Punishment over a bottle of chilled Chablis rather than engaging in the usual post-gig routine.

I leave as I arrived, on my own, ears ringing, happy.