Everything Everything

Milan, 06-03-2013

It's raining, it's been raining and, it seems, it will keep raining for the next few days. After casually skirting a “traffic warden roadblock” with that nonchalance typical of “decent folk”, we made it half-dry into the “underground” Tunnel to listen to, watch and down a few drinks with Everything Everything from Manchester, UK.

One could open with the proverbial “when it rains, it pours” in introducing the performance of the four who live in Manchester but, geographically speaking, hail from different corners of the land of the Lords, from Tynedale to Kent; indeed, the show confirmed expectations for a band that builds its calling card on executional skill, genre-blending and harmonic virtuosity. The “ugly ones” – yes, even the touring keyboardist – are flawless on their instruments, extraordinary in groove and feel; they give off an atypical human warmth compared with the stereotype of the reserved, dry British manner, and only lose their bearings on sporadic occasions, mostly vocally and in their stage presence.

The concert opens with the dreamy “Undrowned”, woven together by keyboards and guitars dancing around the dark room of the Milanese venue; Higgs immediately tries to unravel the vocal knot, still too tight in his throat, which winds itself up even tighter as the frontman attempts to loosen it, before the final explosion of a track that, for the nostalgic among us, recalls Emerson, Lake & Palmer's “Pictures At An Exhibition”.

“Kemosabe”, the first single taken from the album “Arc”, doesn't keep us waiting, and the crowd shows its gratitude the moment it hears the tribal call of the keyboards, in one of the finest rock openers of recent times. Robertshaw's guitar work is of remarkable calibre, and the qualities on display hold steady for the entire hour and a quarter of the set; Higgs still struggles to find his footing with the falsetto, though the back-and-forth exchanges with himself, more spoken than sung, land as thrilling jolts, evidenced by the crowd's circular swaying and joyful singing along on the chorus “My Kemosabe I'm Alone/ I'm Alone”.

Decidedly darker tones in “Torso Of The Week”, which are swept aside by the immediate pull of the ringing guitars of “Feet For Hands” and Higgs's voice, which finally manages to fully express itself, on a track that strongly recalls Coldplay's “Parachutes” and Radiohead's “Pablo Honey”, rhythmically carved up by Spearman's flawless drumming. A jump back in time with “Final Form”, a song from “Man Alive”, the band's debut album released in mid-2010, well played but not particularly memorable, and probably chosen precisely to set off the orchestral “Duet” by contrast, the second single taken from “Arc”: a triumph of violas and synthetic double basses, bass drums, cymbals and tickling guitars, building to a final syncretic convergence that delights both crowd and band alike. The peak of the performance is reached.

A moment of release with the following “Armourland”, a fine mix of American R&B, dream-pop and trip-hop, which showcases some of bassist Pritchard's qualities but also highlights some questionable traits; his skill on the instrument is undeniable, but it's clouded by a sometimes excessive and irritating showiness, especially in the moments of eye contact with the crowd and in his adolescent handling of the stage, a trait shared here with Higgs, who strikes some starlet-like poses. Keyboards and whistles can only be heralding “Schoolin'”, a masterful display of technical and theoretical musical grounding (Higgs and Pritchard both hold degrees from Salford University of Manchester), which the band, together with the hysterical vocal lines Higgs delivers on “Photoshop Handsome”, fires off as a “progressive one-two punch” that hits its mark dead on.

Still reeling from the salvo, we're only helped back to our feet when Spearman's electronic drums kick off “The Peaks”, a refined gem in pure synth-pop style and, in all likelihood, the toughest vocal challenge of the night for Higgs, in terms of intimacy and pitch: a test passed with flying colours, especially in the final crescendo, where keyboards and voice blend into something elastic and rounded to the ear, just as the sweet notes of Robertshaw's guitar gently cradle it.

And so, just when the moment seems to be steering toward other sonic destinations, the four of them violently unleash a remarkable jolt of adrenaline, delivering "Suffragette Suffragette" and "Cough Cough" back to back, showcasing an enviable musical completeness — exemplified by the QOTSA-esque chorus of the former and the driving rhythm of the latter, where Higgs pours his enthusiasm into a snare skin that amplifies Spearman's already considerable intensity. It's a notable way to close things out, ahead of the classic "encore" ritual. It could have left the crowd satisfied enough given the quality of the songs and the intensity of the performance. As mentioned, though, the band returns after a few minutes' pause, turning the venue into a 70s-style dancehall with the soul-funk of "MY KZ, UR BF", once again evoking bands like ELP, Weather Report and, in some ways, the second era of Genesis, post-Peter Gabriel. "Choice Mountain" acts as an interlude before the true close of the set with the exotic "Radiant", whose indigenous-inspired sonorities have also been explored by other UK bands (alt-J and Maccabees chief among them), and the brisk "Don't Try", in which the Manchester residents have fun surprising Italy with a throwback to 80s new pop origins: the whole track is whipped along by sharp guitar riffs (Prince) and by vocal call-backs and harmonic surges typical of Duran Duran and Tears For Fears, where Higgs's voice performs well, recovering from a performance that had at times seemed still a bit shaky.

The band bids farewell to their only scheduled Italian date on their European tour with a technically excellent performance, despite the band members' young age — marred only by the occasional vocal strain from Higgs and a stage presence still in need of polish, along with some ready-made popstar mannerisms clearly picked up from an excessive dose of media osmosis.

Photo by Valerio Berdini

Ride the wave of great music

Add OndaRock to your favorite sources on Google Discover. Don't miss our reviews, milestones and latest news straight in your feed.

Follow on Google