Stereolab + Four Tet

The first thing to admit is that the undersigned is no great expert on Stereolab. Encouraged and egged on by some of OndaRock's big names, and tempted by the fact that the intriguing Four Tet is also on the bill, I buy a ticket and, over the past month, do my homework on this band which, from what I've read and heard, played a far from marginal role in the history of Nineties pop music. I learn of the tragedy that struck them in 2002, yet here they are outside the Trabendo, chatting amiably with fans queuing to get in. I also spot Laetitia Sadier losing her icy aristocratic aplomb to kick a door that, lacking a pass and unrecognised, won't let her back through.

The show kicks off just slightly late, in a venue where the stage sits right up against the crowd and stands less than a metre high: if you wanted to, you could reach out and touch whoever's performing.

Kieran Hebden, aka mister Four Tet, looks like a Spanish Erasmus student who's wandered onto the Trabendo stage by pure chance. When he sets himself up behind the two computers (incredible: for once, someone who doesn't use a Macintosh!) and other unidentified electronic gear, you'd mistake him for a technician. But the lights go down and, initially unrecognisable, a marathon-length version of "She Moves She" kicks in - the same track that already featured prominently on "Rounds", young Hebden's latest album. Over the hypnotic, inevitably prerecorded arpeggio underpinning it, Hebden lays down his relaxed beats before veering towards more unsettled sounds, piling on increasingly intrusive electronic interference. A fine opening and a great showcase of the formula that makes Four Tet a compelling proposition, and his performance one worthy of the attention of everyone who'd come only for Stereolab. Compared to his studio work, Hebden leans harder into the noisier, more purely electronic side of his compositions, which in places take on a brand-new abrasiveness while still retaining, underneath, a tenderness reminiscent of certain post-rock. Along these lines, for instance, comes an "As Serious As Your Life" that's impossible not to be lulled by, and the closing "Rounds", which manages to keep its delicacy intact.

Forty-five minutes at a high level, albeit with the limits in audience engagement that so much electronic music carries with it, on top of the prejudices of those in the crowd who still turn their nose up if they don't see a guitar or a band. If the former is a (minor, ultimately) flaw of Four Tet's, seemingly tied above all to the young man's tender age, the latter seem to die hard among a crowd that, given their age, should by now have seen and heard plenty...

Purists of the “traditional” rock lineup and instrumentation get their fill with the evening's main course. Stereolab take the stage with the following setup: Laetitia “Seaya” Sadier on vocals, trombone and assorted knick-knacks; Tim Gane on his old Fender and all his effects; Andy Ramsay on drums; Simon Johns on bass and, occasionally, on a second drum kit; the group is rounded out by three keyboardists, one of whom, known as Professor Plum (yes, as in Cluedo), also handles acoustic guitar and French horn.

They kick off with a few tracks from “Margerine Eclipse”. As I've already mentioned, I haven't followed Stereolab closely for years, and I actually rather liked their latest album. And as you may have guessed, I've never seen Stereolab live before, so “Margerine Melodie”, “Margerine Rock” (the first track of the night to be played with two drum kits) and “Vonal Declosion” really do make quite an impression. They sound better than on record, and although the band doesn't crack so much as half a smile, you get the sense that everyone on stage is enjoying playing their part, giving the mix a sound that, even today, despite being a source of inspiration for so many, retains a uniqueness all its own, especially in a live setting. Seaya says she's amazed by the extremely warm welcome given to her and the band. “Maybe it's because you're so rare” comes the lovely reply.

The first leap into the past comes with “Diagonals”, dominated by the keyboardists and the “oblique” sounds you'd expect from a title like that. Excellent. The show delivers great moments even where you wouldn't expect them. Longtime fans weren't too keen on “Margerine Eclipse”. Plenty of people tell me so before the show. And yet “Need To Be” and “…Sudden Stars” not only get the reception usually reserved for old classics, but turn out to be moments of really great music. The power of live performance? The power of Stereolab's musicianship and live arranging skills? Maybe they were good songs all along and we just hadn't noticed… Who knows…

“You'll recognize this one” Seaya says at this point. “Lo Boob Oscillator” (listed as “Sub Pop” on the setlist) gets the kind of reception reserved for special occasions, and rightly so. The first part is done in that Velvet-esque style we all love. The delightful “pom pom pom pom” that accompanies Seaya's vocals is entrusted (besides the audience) to Professor Plum's French horn, which he often plays with a fist acting as a mute. The French horn is in fact frequently assigned the role of counter-vocal throughout the show, a solution born of the respectful choice not to truly replace Mary Hansen. The second half of “Lo Boob Oscillator” offers the chance for a swift descent into musical inferno that still keeps something euphoric about it, as the lights grow darker and more jittery. Sensational. The run-through of the new tracks continues with “Cosmic Country Noir” and “Bop Scotch”.

From this point on (we're roughly halfway through what will, by the end, turn out to be a two-hour set), it's all songs drawn from the old repertoire. Seaya immediately calls out the title: “L’Enfer Des Formes”. The crowd howls, and we get a full-throttle version followed by an inventive coda that, from now on, Stereolab will tack onto every song that doesn't already have one of its own. So we get long or extra-long versions of a few more or less vintage tracks, like “Double Rocker”, which, after a trombone blast landed by Seaya, sets off a fun second half dominated by horns and keyboards, with Andy Ramsay's drumming fast and frighteningly steady underneath. Indeed, in these codas, amid the constant shifts in rhythm and tempo, the excellent rhythm section plays a crucial role: whether it's bass and drums or two drum kits, it's Ramsay and Johns who provide the drive and set the coordinates for every change in rhythm, and in tone too.

The past on show here is the more recent kind, with a beefed-up “Mass Riff”, boosted by a decidedly rhythmic, practically danceable second part, closer than ever to the territory of the original that closed the “Instant 0 In The Universe” EP. “Come And Play In The Milky Night” closes things out beautifully with three tempo changes, and Seaya is a joy to watch as she dances, smiles (finally!), plays the trombone, plays the cymbal, plays a grater…

For the encore, nobody comes back inside without their little bottle of beer, and they launch into a hint of “The Brush Descends The Length”, which turns into “Cybele’s Reverie”. Gane, as he's done throughout the whole second half of the show, pulls every possible sound out of his Fender, plus a couple of impossible ones. The grand finale is entrusted to an incredible “Stomach Worm” (the oldest track of the night, from “Peng!”, listed on the setlist as “Jealousy”). For the occasion, Four Tet also returns to the stage, handed a guitar and free rein over the mountain of effects available. The result is over ten minutes (how much over? No idea, my biological clock had already shattered during “Double Rocker”) of false endings and real restarts, instrument swaps on the fly, imagination, effects, distortion, drumming now relentless now barely perceptible, Seaya, tempo and rhythm changes, effects, distortion, dancing, keyboards either delirious or perfectly composed, an audience in a trance, effects, distortion, effects, distortion.

Stereolab leave, the lights come up, and the room fills with that typical “okay everyone, time to clear out” music. But nobody in attendance leaves. The applause continues, along with the shouting and the euphoria. After a few minutes of ovation (and nobody – nobody! – heads out), the Trabendo staff are forced to dim the lights again, and Stereolab come back out, surprised and delighted by so much love, so much enthusiasm. Sadier, a broad smile lighting up her face, asks: “Vous en voulez encore?”. The “Ouiiiiiiiii” that follows is a foregone conclusion. “Ok, une petite pour la route”, which in France is the phrase for one last drink. Here comes “Harmonium”, and the close of a great evening.

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