MOGWAI PRESENT ZIDANE: A 21ST CENTURY PORTRAIT
Barbican Hall | July 26th
The Barbican Centre is the perfect setting for Mogwai’s music. We’ve seen the band perform triumphantly in way scuzzier settings, but the arches, towerblocks and overpasses of the Barb, all uniform in their concrete pebbledashery, seems made for Glasgow’s finest post rock outfit to ply their trade.
Why? Well, Mogwai are purveyors of a style of music that demands each and very inch of an audience’s attention. If you are to pick up on the intricacy on display; moreover, if you are to fully revel in the perfection of their music making, you simply have to watch and listen. No moshing, no gurning, no texting and (it goes without saying) no talking. No talking allowed.
The Barbican played host to more than a gig last week. We’re talking a multi-disciplined-and-exquisitely-executed event which saw Mogwai resurrect their score for the art house movie Zidane: A 21st Century Portrait and give it the live treatment to a sell-out crowd of (for want of a better term) music geeks and film boffs.
Zinedine Zidane was the finest footballer of his generation. There is no question about it. Not just because of the accolades he amassed or trophies he lifted during his glittering career, but put simply, Zidane had everything in the locker. He drove the teams he played for like a pilot, but behind those furrowed eyebrows there always lay the potential to be the the villain. So impulsive and primal, there was never telling what might come next from the player; a jaw dropping scissor kick, or a rib cracking head butt.
Directed by French documentary filmmakers Douglas Gordon and Philippe Parreno, Zidane: A 21st Century Portrait is a pretty tricky watch outside of a cinema setting. We had seen the film only once previously (on DVD) and found it a challenge. Sure, Zidane is a great player, but studying him alone for a full 90 minutes (17 different camera angles or not) can test your patience. These issues dissipate when presented in a cinema, and the compelling portrait of Zidane’s footballing genius only grew in stature when accompanied by Mogwai’s live score.
Like any good soundtrack, Mogwai accompanied and accentuated the footage but never crossed the line to take precedence. The band took a back seat; almost as if in an orchestra pit of sorts, not hidden from view, but second in command to the 50 ft. portrait of the great French midfielder as he skimmed about the turf of the Santiago Bernabéu.
There were only two or three occasions that Mogwai really tested the PA and reminded the audience just how ferocious they can be. You could see it coming as well; guitarist John Cummings drops to his knees and starts punching pedals while shredding strings and bassist Dominic Aitchison turns to the speaker stack to be fully in tune with the chaos as it builds amongst the outfit. These are the moments that stuck with us both physically and emotionally, the moments when Mogwai’s customary post rock amblings turned into a violent and almost unbearable wall of sound. As you can imagine, these sensorial peaks tessellated to key moments in the film, most notably, Zidane’s last minute sending off for strangling a Sevilla defender during a fight he had absolutely no involvement in until he saw red and decided to wade in like a badman.
One hour after the show had finished we sat in our girlfriend’s garden covering both ears in a vain attempt to calm the ferocious tinnitus we had inherited from the evening’s events. Said tinnitus lasted the best part of two days. It was truly horrible, but we love Mogwai for making it happen.
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Words: Thomas Hawkins
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