There she stands then, dead centre stage, cutting tall outstretched
figures with her curiously bendy frame, ever-restless demeanour, ray-gun stare,
and most importantly *that* crystal voice. Leila Moss is a quite remarkable
front-woman, immediately stealing the attention of a thousand wandering eyes leaves
little doubt of that. But it’s a role she plays very straight, there is no gimmick,
no special feature, no presumptuous play on her sexuality even. She’s as much
a proportional part of the band that she ultimately stands clear from as the next
tousle-haired boy. But she radiates – precision, dominance, belief, passion– and
lays claim to a husky-bodied voice that could neatly slice glass. Like PJ
Harvey with Nina Persson’s crisp limits. And how does that slide into the
background, even if it wanted to? Thus her presence forces the pedestal
that carries her slightly out of focus, in which case what a beautiful mesh that
is rebounding around Koko’s excessively ornate interior. Guitars claw at each
others straggly ends, surges of sound are ridden like waves and the rhythm behaves
according to the scriptures penned by Mo Tucker, namely that life doesn’t need
to move any more intensely than it damn pleases, and that power relies on control.
Current single ‘Lion Rip’ is a rare moment when the tempo actually hits the roof,
though deceivingly it doesn’t feel that others don’t. It’s a caustic modern update
of the Velvet Underground’s free-moving, dreamy expression. Intriguingly,
the capacity audience are a little slow on the uptake, but tonight’s gig is part
of A Certain Music Magazine’s annual awards barrage, and on top of just
previously having endured a band (Dogs, if we must name them) so post-Razorlight
that McFly would be able to heckle and maintain the moral high-ground,
it’s hard to work out where The Duke Spirit fit into the grand scheme.
As far as contemporaries go there are Six By Seven, Spiritualized,
the Kills at a push, but they’re essentially out on their own, unable to
be conveniently sectioned. Still, they give everyone a warning with 8 rumbling
thwacks of the floor tom at the beginning of ‘Cuts Across The Land’, which is
only sporting, before setting about dismantling preconceptions with smoking verve
and unfaltering self-belief till there is no more convincing to be done. Relevant
sites:
http://www.dukespirit.com/
James Berry for Crud Magazine 2004©
Janauary - March 2005 - News Archive | |
|
