CAMP, London
Words by Natalie Hardwick
Photos by Layla Smethurst
Performing at a Young and Lost Club showcase is no mean feat, especially given that the humidity count outside is about as off the scale as it gets in east London, and it’s all being held in a nicely damp basement at CAMP. Good job Othello Woolf and Egyptian Hip Hop have youthful vigour, enthusiasm and bucket loads of ice cool hype on their side.
Woolf, the 27-year-old soul pop bounder, opened proceedings by performing a slick set, including singles “Stand” and “Doorstep”, standing confidently before a band of fellow London street urchins looking halfway between Brian Ferry and one of Fagin’s lost boys.
The beauty of Woolf’s sound is that it is multi-textured, yet has a unique, signature undercurrent. Slick ’80s synths compliment tumbling keyboards, bouncing drums and undeniably Bowie-esque vocals.
While Woolf has experienced a whirlwind year, being championed by a credible spectrum of international music press and enjoying mainstream success in a relatively short period of time, his sound is velvety smooth, accomplished and a celebration of ’80s greatness of the very highest order.
Headliners, bright-eyed newcomers Egyptian Hip Hop are young. They are rabbit-in-the-headlights, flapping-baby-sparrow, tumbling-newborn-lamb, adorably young, making their recent rise to fame all the more impressive.
The Manchester indie electro four-piece are barely out of sixth form college yet have somehow managed to seamlessly make the leap from twiddling about with Casios in their bedrooms to darlings of the UK festival circuit in a mere matter of months. Helped along the way by the production wizardry of Late of the Pier, endorsement from about a million blogs and sheer luck of the draw, of course.
They arrive on stage sweaty as hell, hyped to death, dazed, confused and bemused. Their set starts with a few minor blips, poor microphone quality and general starting-block nerves being the main offenders. However, once in the swing of it, the boys sounded punchy and full of vigour.
The band drift naturally between noise punk, ethereal electro, pop and indie dirge. Front man Alex Hewett carries the entire band on his little shoulders. The other guys simply rock about with their heads bowed, occasionally swapping instruments, often looking very bashful.
The influence of producer Sam Eastgate is strong, resulting in a sound that lifts from early Klaxons and Foals, as well as contemporaries Is Tropical, Hurts and Everything Everything. By the end of the set, sulky debut single “Rad Pitt” and the excellent “Heavenly” create a palpable buzz among the crowd of now rather clammy hipsters.
Once they gained momentum, EHH were raucous, full of attitude and completely deserving of their meteoric hype. And since they are currently wading through the thick treacle of the summer festival season, still to perform at no less than 10 European festivals, here’s betting they won’t be as wobbly come September.
