Paperjam

LCD Soundsystem at Birmingham Academy 7/3/07

Gigs // Jim // 9th March 2007

The underground stylings of The Yard Of Ale are probably the zenith of pre-academy drinking fun, well in my book anyway. Jane and I meet Rich there, chase down another quick drink and stroll round the corner to meet Jim W and Steve. Rich reckons that its all going to be a bit disco this evening and I think he might well be on to something.

A late night the previous evening and the start of a really fantastic cold are making me think that a relatively subdued approach to LCD Soundsystem might be in order tonight. Steve is very keen to get in and check out the support band, known only to me as “The Horn”, hardly anyone is outside the academy at all which seems strange, although I think I can hear the muffled wet slapping noises indicating a tout getting his head kicked in vengefully round the corner.

As we hand over the tickets we get our hands on some of the “limited edition” flags that have a number on that you can use to win a competition or something. This is a new concept in “limited edition”, I get two, Jane’s got about five and Steve has loads, they protrude from all of his pockets.

Wander in through a small mountain of discarded flags and Jane bumps into some friends of hers who don’t look all that happy, what could be the cause of their consternation? Seems like it could be down down to “The Horn”, who are molesting the audience with some sort of unsure indie noise. “This lot are fucking rubbish”, says someone, absolutely no-one runs over to batter him senseless in defence of “The Horn” and their right to artistic indulgence, least of all Steve who is looking a bit sheepish to say the least.

The Academy is shut upstairs and about a third full downstairs at this point, I was sure that this was going to be a complete sell-out, what the fuck do I know? Get some drinks and someone notices that “The Horn” have gone, ask Steve if he is glad we got in early enough to see them. He gives me the sort of look that could melt diamond.

Jim W is back on the beer after a lengthy lay off, unfortunately it’s dodgy beer in plastic cups, but his sense of relief is palpable.

After a bit James Murphy and his ridiculously cool looking band take to the stage, they kick it off in style, yet the crowd as one lapse into some sort of chin scratching coma, oh for fucks sake. Someone points out that he doesn’t really look like he’s running for 45 minutes and 33 seconds a day, but being in a glass house, stones in hand, I decide to say very little. One voice pipes up to say that “He’s younger than I thought he would be, yet looks older than he is”, a statement that seems like it should be concluded by the word “Grasshopper”, I’m just glad I’m not stoned or I would have to think about that for hours.

The paper-jam contingent split into two teams at this point; Team A assume a sensible holding position involving sage head nodding and musical equipment identification, the somewhat more juvenile Team B are the advance party heading for the front to commit crimes against dancing and try and engender a bit of life into this fucking boring crowd. Guess which team I'm in.

Daft Punk Is Playing At My House begins and to celebrate it some bloke pours his beer down my back to get my attention: “You’re in the way he says”, I could hug him, as I’ve never really been tall enough to block anyone’s view of anything. I move half a centimetre to the right, “Cheers mate”, he says and sets about polishing off his beer as the rest of it seeps slowly into the hair that lives in the crack of my arse.

Arrive at the front-right of the stage, gulp down drinks, decide to abandon the relatively subdued approach and start badly dancing/jumping about a bit - no one cares at all.

Someone near me tuts. More chins are scratched. Sigh.

A plan to go to the gig in Berlin is proposed and despite my joint fears of flying and Sauerkraut, I agree that it might be good idea, if not an absolute fucking necessity.

Murphy thanks the crowd for coming along, not sure if he’s taking the piss or not, North American Scum begins and the drummer, resembling Robinson Crusoe, is completely awesome. The crowd where we are is gradually getting going, although the album ain’t out yet, everyone has heard this one way or the other, by the end things have warmed up a touch.

A drum beat kicks off, no idea what this is, hmm is it Beat Connection? Dunno. Jane reckons it could be On Repeat. Errrrr, hang on, it transforms into Tribulations. Oh yesss. Grins spread across faces (even mine). It’s time to bounce around like twats. Fantastic.

Some bloke in front has got arms like Rafael Nadal and may well have ingested so much powder that he is experiencing life five minutes into the future and is dancing to the next track, which turns out to be Watch The Tapes. Then we get the wait for it, wait for , waaaiiiit…… NOW! Punk blast of Movement. Just as things seem to be veering a bit rock it all goes fairly disco with an outing through Yeah and something else with Mr Murphy demonstrating some impressive vocal acrobatics. Owwww.

There’s a bit of mumbling about something and then we are given the swansong of New York I Love You. I really like this and have been listening to it far too much. It’s a lot less Kermit than on the record and lighters (well two) are held aloft as it builds to its swaying, torch song, rock n roll suicide finale and reprise. Cool.

Off they go, it won’t be the end though I confidently state, as the lights aren’t on and the music hasn’t come on. There is clapping and shouting for more, once again I say that they will definitely be back out, definitely, absolutely certainty. The lights come on and the music starts up. Bollocks.

Teams A and B briefly reconvene and the general consensus is overwhelmingly positive. Could have been a bit longer and Losing My Edge was conspicuous by its absence, but the band were absolute quality, Murphy is a bit of a star, despite the Mark E Smith affectation. I would estimate that four fifths of us were well impressed with the slinky keyboardist too, sad and predictable eternal adolescents that we are, tragic isn’t it?

Shame that the Academy crowd were a bit sparse and so uptight, I really hope that it didn’t fuck LCD Soundsystem off too much. They are on at The Astoria for two nights next week and I reckon that will be the absolute dogs knackers. Get yourself down there, London.

Haven’t bought a five quid t-shirt off a cold pavement for a week or two so it would be rude not to really, not as rude as acting like you haven't got any money to buy one though. Chat to a couple of young ladies on the marginally delayed train home who were at the gig too, they eat my chips and tell me that I look like a “more disgruntled James Murphy”, not sure if this is a good thing or not, quite probably not for him.

Links that like to shout "THE SONICS, THE SONICS"...

LCD Soundsystem

It is the main web site, check the circuit diagram and the other UK tour dates

Videos of the gig

Someones got them up on YouTube already, fortunately we do not make an appearance