Dog Unit

@ Omeara, London

Words & Pics by Captain Stavros

Hot on the heels of an eco-friendly album release, At Home, and a sold-out show at the Lexington earlier this month, where not even yours truly could get a spot to review, the masses are lapping up the hype swirling around none other than Dog Unit. Full disclosure: there will be dog pawns a-plenty in this done here review.

Outside Omeara, where a ‘doors open at 5:30pm’ has turned into doors at 6:30, the queue continues to grow as our patience shrinks. Eventually, we make it through the door only to be faced by a human fence across the front of the stage. Nestled in between the ammonia stenches emanating from human trees, likely coming down from a two-day jag where bathing comes second to Red Stripe tinnies, we settle in; breathing through our mouth and hoping to god the set is worth it.

John Kennedy – of X-Posure, which has just turned 25, brought together a celebration of chart climbing semi-underexposed bands, most notably for us, Dog Unit. To be fair, we were impressed with Prima Queen and Chartreuse’ set so big shout out to them for their fine performances respectively indeed. John insisted on introducing, Lucy, Sam, James and Henry by name as they hit the stage in matching boiler suits. They form an intimate setup, with Sam and Henry sat across each other, guitar in laps, as James looms above, bass in hand, with Lucy as over-watch on the drums; keeping the fiends at bay with a steady rhythm.

It’s not easy reviewing an instrumental group without a track-list or opportunity for a quick interview but we’re gonna try; while some might buck at strictly instrumentals, for us, it's the soundtrack to our lives without a muddled dialogue and, in our opinion, sometimes that's just what we need. The opener, straight liquid chill, which the crowd is pretty pleased with. It’s not easy making this set come off as effortless which to their credit is a low-key flex. The crowd has pushed forward and the gaps in the audience have filled up. Launched out of the gate by James Weaver's propulsive, funk-laden basslines, it's a perfect showcase of Walton and Scowcroft's dancing, interlocking guitars, all held in place by drummer Lucy Jamieson's deceptively dexterous beats.

Combining melancholic melody with lush, atmospheric accompaniment. Their unique sound — instrumental music that leans just as heavily on the tune-first, purist pop qualities reminiscent of instrumental bands in arms Foxtrot Sierra and the Uniforms, Captain Rico & The Ghost Band, Khruangbin. Dog Unit’s got a bit more bite than the aforementioned, when someone, somewhere, steps on a switch on a board toggling a grungy fuzz that kicks in as much as it kicks out. Tremolos rip up and down the fret board both on guitar and bass alike. Lucy’s percussion is in lockstep with James’ bass and both punch out for a bit of flavour.

Set highlights for us were Sam Walton’s tiny piano, affectionately named Harpy Harpington (by us, don’t ask why) and when Lucy pulled out gong sticks to play her kit. The sounds were ever so subtle and enveloping, well played. It's very apparent that the band is meant to complement each other's strengths. There’s contrast instead of conflict in these twangy and tripped out pseudo psychedelics, and we are totally here for it. These lot form a cohesive unit and their charming tones are certainly of the seductive persuasion. The term, ‘a tough act to follow’ came to mind more than a few times watching Dog Unit who will be touring extensively into the Autumn, keep that info on…. a tight leash, waaaay-o.

Ist Ist

@ Omeara, London

Words & Pics by Captain Stavros

We’re at Omeara for the first time and having just ordered a White Claw, served at room temperature for £7 quid, it left us wondering who even the fuck we are anymore?  To those bothering to look, probably an unrecognizable protoplasm cutting a dark, slim and brooding figure; Balzac deep in A Harlot High and Low.  Awaiting, excruciatingly we might add, through two of perhaps the worst opening acts in recent memory in a venue that reeked of fried eggs, the whole night through we leaned heavily against the wall.  Each act’s sound was worse than the last.  It left us thinking was Omeara’s sound-tech legally deaf, or were the bands just tone deaf?  Maybe both?  What in Christ would Ist Ist sound like?  We sincerely did not feel like sticking it out long enough to find out.  Surrounded by too-drunk, past-their-prime seniors pretending to be middle-aged men, wearing the band tees of the band they were here to see.

Just then we were reminded of a friend that not so long ago told me she swore by David Goggins’ philosophy, which had weaseled their way into our psyche with his ‘what if’ mentality.  What if we could make it through these two abysmal opening acts, defying all the odds, would it be worth it?  Hope is the last to die, so they say, and probably us along with it.  Inevitably, we held up our end of the deal and saw our commitments through to the bitter end, as always.  For one brief shining moment the sun shone upon us for it too.  In reality, it was the intelligent light system searing through our retinas.  Even so, with intensely directed light piercing through and sizzling our optic nerves, we managed to hold steady and witness a set worthy of hope.

Through what must’ve been arguably the greatest amount of fog used since the filming of The Mist appear Manchester’s favourite sons, Ist Ist, with just a splash of bravado.  The previous stage setups, clumsy and cluttered, strewn with keyboard alleys and telephone wired extension leads crawling across the floor, were now replaced.  In their stead, a cleared centre stage framed a relaxed setup in the same vein a smile would on Willem Defoe's face.  Mat’s, donning an epic Slow Drive tour tee by the way, pull up to a double stacked keyboard rig which looms phantom-esque stage right.  Adam’s guitar and Andy’s bass taking up center-left.  As usual, the drummer Joel, is left floating in the background like a ghoulish apparition with only his face and arms swinging around wildly throughout the set.

The 18-song set that ensues kicks off with ‘Stamp You Out’s gnarly down picking bass and Adam’s Paul Banks-esque vocals helped remedy a sore start with a set that would surely soar.  What they lack throughout the evening in a showy stage presence throughout their set, they more than make up for in the volume of quality songs played, sheer talent, and of course a fuckload of fog.  It was an incredible relief to realise it wasn’t in fact the venue’s sound, or the tech’s fault either, for the previous poor soundscapes.  Every instrument came through in crystal studio quality surround sound.  Neither vocals, percussion, keys or bass, which slapped as prominently as it did awesomely, interfered with one another.  The set design feels like an orchestra shoehorned into, well, a shoebox.  Real dark matter vibes, bruh.  It is, and will remain, exceptionally impressive.

Ist Ist effortlessly cruised through a set filtering through their back catalogue as much as promoting their latest, Protagonist, released just last month on Violence Records, without so much as breaking a sweat.  Their sound lays somewhere between metal and grunge, Soundgarden chic?  Even as an interloper at a gig surrounded by die-hard fans, it wasn’t difficult to fall in step whilst enjoying ourselves, guilt free, in the sullen inclusivity that still managed to bring about an uplifting experience.  You don’t want to be left without a chair when the music stops.

Ist Ist are touring now.