LA ROUTE DU ROCK OPENING PARTY: JULIA HOLTER, CLINIC, AUSTRA
Nouvelle Vague, St. Malo, Brittany | August 14th
Willowy, lithe, unfailingly dramatic; Julia Holter cuts a deeply captivating figure.
The critics’ darling de jour is onstage as the first act for this Domino Records showcase, the opening party for the iconic Breton festival La Route Du Rock. As is festival policy – and refreshingly so – acts are programmed not necessarily in order of prominence, but with careful consideration for dynamic suitability. To be greeted by her impeccable noises makes for a divine entry to the evening and, indeed, the festival.
Holter is an anachronism, an individual who has succeeded in translating highfalutin concepts and grandiose thematic yarns to a wide and intrigued audience. This is thanks as much to her bewitching melodies and musicianship as the narrative stems she lovingly constructs. This set sees her, and her all-male backing band of drums, a string duo and a saxophonist, present the distinctive sound palate of stunning new album Loud City against a luxurious red velvet backdrop. The set is at turns haunting, gloriously uplifting, and far more playful than the po-faced character she is often cast as might imply. Horns Surrounding Me is as dense and claustrophobic as its name suggests, and comes as an expressive highlight. Goddess Eyes I from debut Ekstasis is punctuating by keening cries, and Maxim’s 2’s creaking strings and swelling sax form a perfect grounding for Holter’s irresistible melodrama. As she returns for her divine encore – yep, opening act encore – she has a committed room buying into every swoop and swoon of her flawless vocal. Remarkable.
Clad to a man in surgical attire and drenched in smoke, the droning bottom end and terse rhythms of Liverpool post-punk titans Clinic present quite the jolt to this beautifully formed, 900-capacity venue. Swapping instruments and time-signatures with nauseating regularity, when grooves are fully carved out they come across like Gang of Four on a particularly malevolent day. Material from across their 16 years coalesces seamlessly; King Kong’s fucked up cyclical churn is offset by the sublime, and eagerly received The Second Line, all the while marked by Ade Blackburn’s unmistakably Northern monotone slur. When they hit their highs, the reasons for Clinic’s influence and longevity are implicit.
Finally, Canadians Austra stride forward, with the weight of two hugely impressive performances upon their collective shoulders. They accept the task boldly, their dreamy, new wave electro pop creations riding along percussive blips, while basslines morph and melt into continuous, powerful entities. Forgive Me, from second album Olympia, is presented with gusto, each note complete with a knowing flourish. Katie Stelmanis, meanwhile, floats across stage front whenever she is relieved of keyboard duties, and at almost any other show would go home safe in the knowledge that she was the most intriguing beguiling frontwoman to appear that evening.
Despite the other acts’ most valiant and memorable efforts, Julia Holter emerged from the evening with her reputation as a definitive modern talent growing by the day. But surely the biggest winners here were Domino Records and La Route Du Rock; a label which, despite its seemingly incomparable influence, has never for a second rested on its laurels, and a festival whose unbridled thirst for new and genuinely alternative music has made it a treasured asset in the European festival calendar. Roll on tomorrow.
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Words + Photos: Geraint Davies
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