Review: alt-J live at the Bristol O2 Academy


alt-J by Rosie Matheson

alt-J by Rosie Matheson




alt-J’s hushed tones work the room in Bristol.

It’s often speculated that one needs to have a healthy ego to be a performer, and it’s undeniable that to get up on a stage and either articulate your feelings or show off what specific artistic talent you may have certainly requires confidence, if nothing else.

The very nature of stage performance ordinarily means you are elevated above the attendees, but with a raised platform adorning the stage, alt-J could be said to be overstating the point.

However, knowing them of old (as we now surely do after 10 years), it seems unlikely that the unassuming trio are pursuing a god complex and indeed, the platform ensures that even the shorter members of the crowd can see the three men and compliments impressive visuals.

Bristol’s Academy, with a capacity of 1,500 (the lack of an arena in this part of the world is either a benefit or a crutch, depending on your point of view), is likely to be one of the smaller venues on this spring tour, which works to their strength; the lightshow, set as it is around their platform, is dazzling and the backdrop images (burning embers, sharks, Matrix glitches) brightens the venue, although sadly their music, operating as it does in varying volumes, doesn’t always fill the room.

The Leeds band are one of those acts which bring out a mixed crowd of students, people that are there for a night out (and are generally having a catch-up) and the type of people who recognise one song from an advert.

Where much of alt-J’s oeuvre deserves maximum attention, there are few hushed silences, sadly, although the crowd aren’t found wanting when shouting ‘Fuck Putin’ on Unger-Hamilton’s demand as they return for the encore.

But they try their best and look striking cast in silhouettes against the beguiling lights. The various movements of slow-burning opener Bane ensures that the gig awakens into life rather than bursts as guitarist and lead singer Joe Newman intricately navigates his way, accompanied by Gus Unger-Hamilton’s winding keys.

Every Other Freckle pensively follows, allowing drummer Thom Sonny-Green the first opportunity to flex his not-inconsiderable chops on drums and drum pads, a one-man percussionist whose direct but complex beats pierce the room, diverting attention from the odd lyrics. Eight years on, and we’re still yet to fully comprehend what ‘lick you like a crisp packet’ actually means.



Ostensibly a tour for recent album The Dream, these dates handily also acknowledge 10 years since their Mercury-winning debut An Awesome Wave, which forms a fair chunk of the set.

Although the first few songs impress (In Cold Blood hammers, Deadcrush stutters persistently and current single The Actor slips and slides), the show really kicks into life as the threesome harmonise acapella on Interlude 1 (otherwise known as Ripe & Ruin) which precedes Tessellate’s dramatic, wandering piano.

It should be said that the uplift is generated mainly via the crowd’s reaction rather than through any fault of the band, who are faultless in their delivery throughout. Of the newer material, the nervous-yet-bold U&ME shifts and grooves, the arch, string-driven, Greensleeves-esque Philadelphia swoops and sighs while Chicago, as it does on record, threatens to burst into a pounding slice of trance before it’s cruelly curtailed.

Meanwhile, the Bhangra-influenced Nara (from 2014’s This Is All Yours) does encourage some movement (alt-J are for thinking and feeling, but not for dancing) from the crowd, while the swaggering Left Hand Free blisters and bristles.

Yet familiarity will always win out. Something Good winds and soothes, the sprightly Dissolve Me puts extra emphasis on the bass (on which Unger-Hamilton alternates with the keys with no impact) and Fitzpleasure grumbles gloriously.

Three accomplished musicians doing their thing is always a sight to behold, even if some people prefer to look at their mates.


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