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Witnessed
Isis, The Oxbow, 2007-29-05
07/01/08 || The Duff
Concorde 2 in Brighton, UK.
Intro: Second time seeing Isis, and this on the day when I finished my last piece of work at University – couldn’t have come at a better time, if you ask me. Thing is, I almost missed the show as I was up all of the previous night studying for my final exam, and as such was crashed out until about eight-thirty in the evening. In some ways, this was a good thing, as I missed the almost revolutionary opening act known as The Oxbow; on the other hand, I missed the almost revolutionary act known as The Oxbow, and as such can’t tell you about this most fucked up band. While I was sprinting (or fat-waddling) my way down to the Concorde 2, the Brighton fans of Isis were being treated to the unusual works of half a multi-racial band: a scrawny white guy on guitar, and a massive lumbering black fellow on vocals (their website also makes it painfully obvious that they are, indeed, a force behind the promoting of racial harmony), on heroin, kicking chairs into the equipment (the explosive nature of art, I tell you…), and telling anecdotes of his passing out at parties whilst masturbating in public… whatever happened to touring with bands like fucken Jesu? The Oxbow, it would seem, is what happened.
Isis: Anyways, I reached the venue just as Isis were kicking into the opening track off their latest, “Wrists of Kings”, which I would discover was the first song they performed – although I would later curse having missed a drug-addled maniac kicking instruments about the stage, I was grateful for not having missed one of my favourite bands kicking off with some new material off its latest album. Although I find “Panopticon” to be the greatest aural experience I shall ever know this life-time, I wasn’t disappointed with “In the Absence of Truth”; I recognised it as inferior to its two predecessors, but then I was expecting such a thing, and as much as it marked quite a departure for the band, even when considering the transition from “Oceanic” to “Panopticon”, I still thought it stood up well to the now classic aforementioned discs. That being said, the new tracks in a live setting were absolutely stunning, to the point where I even found them better than the tracks comprising the rest of the setlist.
The band performed with energy, yet also appeared very laid back – Isis have clearly grown very comfortable with a heavy touring schedule, and a small venue show in Brighton may have been a big deal some years back, but I’m sure now is considered nothing more than a warm-up, small potatoes affair since supporting an act as renowned as Tool. The rest of the tracks played included “In Rivers, Not in Drops”, “Dulcinea” and “Holy Tears” (so yeah, all the best off the new album save, much to my surprise, “Gardens of Light”), “In Fiction”, “False Light” and the closer which appeared to be a medley of “Oceanic” tracks, including “The Other” and “Weight”.
A little disappointed they didn’t play more from “Panopticon”, it being my favourite album ever in the whole wide world supertits deluxe, but then I caught them touring for said album about three years prior to this event, and so it wasn’t enough to ruin the show for me; I also had to acknowledge the ballsy move made by Isis to omit a great deal of material from what many in the crowd might have perceived their breakthrough album, and so they did well to break away from conventional touring-methods and put their earlier, classic material to the test in front of an audience possibly not so eager to hear music from the band’s past works.
The band’s encore was “Celestial Tower”, which I was grateful for considering it’s the only Isis track pre-“Oceanic” I’ve heard. No chance meeting the band after the show, which was a shame, but then I guess the bandmembers are moving onto bigger things these days – touring with a band like Tool must do huge things to your popularity, as well as add inches to your cock, and so spending time with some wanker who goes by the pseudonym “The Duff” might be a little beyond your wants and desires when you have fans who are willing to follow you across nations to see you play and toss you off behind closed doors – I’m willing to do the latter for a signed tee, but unfortunately do not have the finances to cover the former.
And that about covers it – shame I couldn’t witness a seven foot Lenny Kravitz look-alike (his words, I’m not racist, fuck you) rubbing one out over the crowd while his pasty partner, with whom the vocalist/masturbator shares a musical affinity and dominator-bitch relationship on the tourbus, anxiously strummed away on an acoustic guitar more battered than his own once puckered and pink cornhole, otherwise this would’ve been a slightly longer review. Not too sure if the final score would have benefitted, though.
7 bands still supplying the good stuff out of 10
