Orbital by Kenny McCracken
Although ticket prices for gigs are a bone of contention in some quarters these days Orbital are, in their own way, offering excellent value for money on their latest tour.
Ostensibly to promote brand new album Optical Delusion, there’s also the small matter of their 30 Something compilation released last year, for which the duo repurposed many of their tracks to highlight their evolution in the live arena.
Their attitude has always been that of subversive punk under the guise of electronica and, where some trips down memory lane feel as much, the more recent work demonstrates that age hasn’t softened them.
The set opens with Smiley, all jungle beat and wonky modulated synths that, retooled or not, instantly transports one back to a different age.
The spoken word samples, including the iconic ‘this is acid, man’ taken from 1988 documentary A Trip Round Acid House, were once revolutionary (the film covered a group of young adults during Thatcher’s ongoing war against the underground rave scene) but are now, sadly, nostalgic, even if the house piano still shines. No fools of course, the brothers are equally aware of the passing of time, the track concluding with a simple ’30 Years Later…’.
Moving right back to the present, the ethereal, chilling reading of the quasi-titular plague song by Mediæval Bæbes is just about masked by the buoyant beat of Ringa Ringa (The Old Pandemic Folk Song) before the Kraftwerk-on-ecstasy madness of Where Is It Going?.
Then the distinctive mug of Jason Williamson fills the backdrop as they launch into set highlight Dirty Rat. The Sleaford Mods frontman has lent his unique vocal style to many other electronic acts, but this collaboration is comfortably the best fit, his diatribe against the Tory government perfectly aligning with Orbital’s stuttering, angry music.
In a set not short of uplifting moments, righteous anger reigns supreme, although it’s run close by the stunning visuals which are never less than awe-inspiring.
The projections are used to best effect on Satan, with the demonic images making a large venue feel claustrophobic while the music successfully melds life-affirming and sinister before a run of tracks from the new album.
The jungle-rave of Requiem For The Pre-Apocalypse rattles the rafters while the splintered, ragged You Are The Frequency sustains the momentum before Anna B Savage’s soar across Home, with the disco-techno tones taking a back seat. Similarly, later in the set, Penelope Isles’ vocals add to the smooth glide of Are You Alive?.
Thereafter it’s a run through Orbital’s back catalogue and, while the likes of Nothing Left and Out There Somewhere (in the encore) perhaps outstay their welcome, the above-the-clouds masterpiece Halcyon and the hymnal dreamscape of Belfast take things to a higher plane.
On the latter, Hildegard von Bingen’s vocals still have the capacity to invoke shivers, as do the echoing, reverberating keys on Chime, a slice of stuttering joy. Bringing things full circle, Impact (updated with Greta Thunberg sample) closes the main set while unfortunately acknowledging that few lessons have been learned since it’s original release.
Resplendent in their trademark twin torch headsets (which does make it hard to distinguish which is which), the Hartnoll brothers are masters of their trade, simply twisting a knob or two to generate further adulation, but it’s clear they still feel it in their bones.
At points introspective but largely euphoric, it’s a sublime set.