Rough Trade at the ICA
London
Words by Hannah Lanfear
Photos by Abbey Braden

I’ve been skittishly anticipating this evening all week long. The ICA has asked a few independent labels to curate some evenings showcasing their new favourite things. Tonight, Rough Trade have their hands on the reigns, and have Cymbals Eat Guitars in the headline slot. This is their first UK gig since the release of their debut, Why There Are Mountains, and like a pan of popping corn, it’s had the music press keenly licking their lips; these New Yorkers have something stellar inside.

As you know, Rough Trade have been breaking new bands for decades, sourcing rare and superb music and bolstering the post punk scene with their generative record stores. With their record label, their signings have long been an indication of great new music, so it stands to reason that if you put them in charge of putting some bands on, they’re going to know darn well what they’re doing, and I’m antsy for having a look at their tips for the top.

First on the bill – Joe Gideon and the Shark, a brother and sister act offering up a blustery bowl of blues with a spoonful of punk that reminds of Jon Spencer Blues Explosion. Gideon intones gruffly, twisting yarns atmospherically while his sister has a monopoly on the share of instruments, and is gustily playing them at once, with all the litheness accrued from her former career as an Olympic gymnast.

Cymbals Eat Guitars begin with album opener ‘And The Hazy Sea’, an incredible track, full of tender chiaroscuro. Their songs make a memorable impact on first listen, but as you give it time, they slowly seep into your soul, affording glimpses of indie heritage gleaned from Lowgold, Pablo Honey era Radiohead, even The Thrills.

But there’s something monumentally wrong, the glorious songs I’m itching to hear are searingly, painfully loud, my gig buddy has her fingers clamped firmly in her ears. A glance to the desk confirms: the sound man is standing there glibly busting out what must be illegal sound levels. Fortunately for him, he has earplugs in, but for everyone else, our golden years are being introduced to tinnitus which is not pleasant, not a bit.

While I can tell you that the band played well and that they looked great to watch, that the songs themselves were wonderful and the musicianship top notch, I certainly can’t tell you that I enjoyed it. It was spirit dampening stuff. For a band who have come so far for so few shows, to have one of them ruined by the dimwit in charge of the dials is a real heartbreaker.

So after all, the evening shattered both eardrums and expectations. There’ll be other times to see Cymbals Eat Guitars for certain (I hear they tore it up at Barfly), but what a shame. And out of the ashes of this ill fated Rough Trade evening, I’ll try and eek a little pleasure from the shanties of Joe Gideon and the Shark, who thankfully got out of this mess alive.