Everything Everything
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Where: Institute of Contemporary Arts, London
When: 4th November 2009
The Institute of Contemporary Arts upper floor bar is occupied by serial daters, couples unwinding in post-coital serenity, recovering divorcee born again alternative post-punk enthusiasts and twenty something’s in circulation stabbing leg wear, shoes collectively exhibiting the transience of past and present fashion. Both the innards of the bar and serving point are heavily pregnant with soft mood pinks, greens, turquoise blues and purples. I am sitting on an orange plastic chair, bolted to the floor. The hand cut chips with aioli sauce arrive late and are beyond divine.
By 21:45 I’m butting past loiterers and semi-fans to position myself in prime location, when a ginger nest riding the ears of Lee Evans blocks the view, lifting from meditation into my line of judgement. Jonathan (voice, guitar, craptop) negotiates equipment to plant duct tape on a herd of cables advancing off the stage. Alex (guitar, voice) and Jeremy (bass, voice, and keys) cross over and pause to restore balance to microphone stands and amplifier settings as well as to fine tune their instruments.
They open with ‘Tin (the manhole),’ the chorister and his guitar under an expanding cylinder of white light, the perfect effect for what is an ethereal and haunting synergy of cleverly arranged sampling and vocals. This track drew me hypnotically in, innovative in its conception, stunning in its delivery. I was not familiar with the following track, but by no means did I attempt to mime unfamiliar lyrics out of the corner of my mouth like an anus at an arm pit party. I merely relished material which (new to my ears) left me all the more invigorated. Next came ‘Suffragette Suffragette’ (which like dry land in the distance beyond Britain’s cultural maelstrom) show cased the methodical genius of a drummer in peak condition. The surrounding bodies were in fits and jolts about the floor in front of the stage. Everything Everything out perform their own recordings effortlessly. They have stage presence the likes of which cannot be formulated by divine intervention or pills, but through refinement and rigorous attention to detail, a gut conviction in approach, style and execution.
I turned round and the place was rammed. ‘Hiawatha Doomed’ launched an already platinum show into orbit and I was finally going ape with the crowd, who were busting nuts in circular around me. The band became something new for me from that point onwards. Certain chemical elements draw you to a group I don’t know what it is? Generally it defies explanation because if you could find the words it wouldn’t be worth the silence. I got the same spinal shivers when I listened to Bjork for the first time or ‘Silent Alarm’ by Bloc Party (whose stylistic approach incidentally is similar to that of Everything Everything). ‘NASA is on your side’ is not the band’s Magnum Opus but still went down like a percolated coffee with your New York cheese cake.
It was at this point that they began to practice the skill of reading the audience with the piercing glance of professionals. Not that they can’t do this while they’re performing, but they do it quietly, they’re not loud or brash, it’s a wry smile, a grin, they know they’re good. That kind of subtle recognition blows the tits of conventional pop stardom stage work.
They haven’t been around long enough to cut loose one of their biggest hits, ‘My Keys Your Boyfriend’ but for a minute there I thought they might not play it. One of the band’s biggest box tickers, (not to mention sexiest videos with all the scattered hotties) this track could be used as musical CPR at any after wedding get together. Then it happened. They left the stage. Then again I had heard them mention the last one was the last one. After eloping they returned to play ‘Photoshop Handsome’, a sweaty pile to the left and right of me perspiring over digital cameras and each other. My eye then caught a professional photographer at the front of the stage that I lamped and making-like-tree with the equipment out the venue I got hi jacked into a large glossy noir BMW, bound and gagged and finally thrown out in, hmm, Ealing Broadway? If you think that sounds amazing go see Everything Everything, they are twice x amazing.
Words: Phillip Cogger
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