GOAT at Troxy, London - 24.10.2024 | Live Reviews

Live music is not just about the music. It takes guts to face a faceless public with huge brash conflict-forward vulnerable songs. Tonight was a good case study for how well it can go.

GANS

For an opening band, with a sparse crowd spread out between bar and couches, to get people converging towards the stage in under 30 minutes was an incredible feat. “We know, it’s just the two of us. He’s my only friend” remarked bassist Thomas Rhodes. I got a Godflesh vibe off these guys before they even shared they were from Birmingham. A punky hardcore bass’n’drum duo, much too melodic to be industrial, they sparked visions of small underground stages where windows blow out mid-concert and you fuzz out of existence from the sheer bass of it all. I loved it.

MaidaVale

Shockingly not from Maida Vale, West London, the Stockholm-based quartet brought a mellower note, reminiscent of Los Bitchos’ funky trans-continental energy, transposed in space or on a surf board. I love seeing all-women bands killing it on stages I’ve only ever seen male-fronted bands on. With their psych-expansive soundscape, they perfectly prepped the stage for what was to come.

maidavale troxy london ricardo cinema mjb 9

GOAT

Let’s talk confidence. A band like GOAT shows up like a meteor strike. An act like theirs – theatrical, intense, fully relying on seducing you into believing in them – can’t discover themselves in the process of playing live. A band like that breaks into your house, shakes you up and clears out all the bad juju accumulated.

The motley crew 7-piece, dressed up and masked, the fog machines on max, walk on and anything could happen, any sort of music could come out. Will it be death metal, to match the masked Zorro on guitar? Will it be post-rock matching the bassist in white robes? Will it be something weird and wonderful? Yes.

The two vocalists, tambourines in hand, burst across the stage, lean over the pit, cast off demons left and right. The bongo rings nice and clear even in front row against the wah-wah’ed fuzz of the guitars. The beat switches from 80s disco to half a kizomba to headbanging kickdrum goodness. The lyrics melt into the strobe lights. It’s live hypnosis – looking around the room, there are raised hands like in worship.

I can’t keep track of all the instruments they conjure out: agogo bells, maracas, a translucent tin whistle, a hollowed out mask that was maybe a guiro, a synth keyboard tucked away next to the drum set. Sprouting from a plethora of world music influences with a heavy dose of psych rock, it all weaves into this wonderful sonic quilted blanket the band uses to toss you high up in the air.

To end the night, we are gifted the rare, the elusive double encore. People run from the exit right back to the rail to catch it. When it’s truly done, there’s a general sense everyone is going home lighter and profoundly happier than they’d come in.