THE ICARUS LINE
The Exchange, Bristol | November 4th
LA’s sleaziest (and that’s saying something), over the last decade The Icarus Line have truly mastered their craft. Their latest album Slave Vows is everything you could ever want, the band’s erstwhile ferocity distilled into a swaggering, malevolent yet uplifting rock ‘n’ roll amalgam. It’s the full house, aces high. It should be on everyone’s turntable, but it seems it isn’t.
We witnessed a travesty beyond all travesties. One of thee finest rock bands on the planet playing to 30 people, and we’re rounding up. They should be playing to rooms full to the rafters with heaving, sweaty bodies splayed in moments of sheer connection. But as we stand in awe of such a deft display of sonic assault boogie cut from the same cloth as The Stooges and The Bad Seeds, there’s a tinge of sadness. We are a misguided people sometimes, we need a good shakin’.
Lead singer, Joe Cardamone’s sneering menace is frighteningly effective, matched by his insane vocal talents. He’s totally mesmerising. Don’t Let Me Save Your Soul is like a freight train crashing from the stage, deluge after deluge of conclusive riffs and swampy basslines bathing us in soul-saving rapture.
The few people in attendance are clearly blown away. This is a band at the top of their game. Marathon Man is a wrecking ball of fury whilst, Laying Down For The Man grooves and peeks into wah wah chaos. No Money Music is beautiful noise in the vein of Suicide, and sees the band go flat out, splitting eardrums in their wake. Their primal nakedness raises hairs on the back of the neck. Music this good is too good to ignore. Do the right thing, redeem yourselves.
– – – – – – – – – –
Words: Philip James Allen
CONNECT TO CRACK
