HEALTH
Old Blue Last, SHOREDITCH
JUNE 12, 2008
WORDS: AMY KNIGHT
PHOTOGRAPHY: KATE COX
The four men that form HEALTH seem not to belong to the human race at all. Their robotic drum thumping, the sonorous Bjork-esque singing through a distorted mic and the rhythmic pounding of their almost obliterated instruments gave them the aura of being simultaneously pre-historic and futuristic; imagine dinosaurs in a spaceship. In support of their new remix album, Disco, HEALTH began their set as they meant to go on. It opened with a heavy, spasmodic episode of percussion which built up steadily, growing in mechanical intensity with every fierce thud of a drumstick. The expression on each of their faces was of concentration and grave exultation; none seemed aware of the audience and consequently disengaged themselves, focusing wholly on the instrument that they were controlling. But the disengagement was positive; the set was tight, lo fi, controlled chaos, and structured despite its apparent recklessness. Their performance was akin to observing the turn of the apocalypse, glimpsing at some dreaded point in the future whilst safe in the knowledge that it isn't yet a reality. At what seemed to be the end of the first track, the tightly packed audience wailed in applause, but were halted; it hadn't finished, its supposed ending merely serving as an introduction to the next track. This occurred throughout the rest of their set – the audience tentatively exclaiming their appreciation while the band continued their extended overture regardless. Had it not been for the hardcore noise-rock they were producing, it would have been reminiscent of a string orchestra playing in the Albert Hall when an embarrassing individual starts clapping between the movements of their perfect concerto.
Admittedly, their self-titled debut album hadn't previously had me reeling with enthusiasm, but their onstage presence was literally awesome. And the two preceding bands were well – and presumably strategically – chosen; beginning with Comanechi, a Dalston two-piece consisting of a Japanese singer slash drummer with a penetratingly loud voice and a guitarist whose pale and interesting face was obscured by a mop of glossy hair (this seems to be the look people are going for in Dalston nowadays), the band to play immediately before HEALTH were another American neo-hippy experimental rock group known as Awesome Colour, held firmly together by one of the most enthusiastic drummers I have ever seen, who suitably warmed the audience into the mood for the headliners. The room was rammed, beer was spilt down people's t-shirts in the struggle to push through the narrow openings between bodies, and the build-up to HEALTH gave us the distinct impression we were about to be subjected to a teenage mosh-pit regression. But the audience, including us, were thrown into a kind of startled bewilderment by the force of the performance, and, when the set was over, the band departed without uttering a word, gracefully mute as they left the stage. And their decision to avoid an encore was a wise one; it left us awe-struck, engrossed, and yearning for more.