Joe Costello finds the music more attractive than the venue.
You wait years for a gig at Birmingham’s worst venue then two come along at once. Following the previous night’s outing for the Pixies, I return to the Academy for a substantially different act in the shape of Isle of Wight’s Wet Leg opening their tour to promote forthcoming new album moisturizer (their lower case, not mine).
Arriving at the venue towards the end of the support act’s set, we are delighted to snag a pair of the few remaining seats on the balcony to rest our elderly legs but the joy is short-lived upon realising what we have gained in comfort is more than negated by the kind of restricted view through the barriers that at a reserved seating event you might expect a discount for. No such luck here, at a venue I don’t recall a single positive viewing experience on any of my visits since it opened some 15 years ago.
For me, this was a two and a half year itch finally scratched; their previous visit late in 2022 saw them performing at the Institute on the same night as another gig I had tickets for and, long story short, ended up selling my ticket in favour of Fontaines DC at the (sigh) Academy instead. And so sad completist that I am, I was pleased to tick them off my to-do list.
Between acts, the usual indie megamix I would ordinarily expect is eschewed in favour of a selection of recordings by The Space Lady, a septuagenarian from Colorado specialising in lo-fi synthesiser covers of classics. I would encourage readers of a Villa persuasion to seek out her version of Ghost Riders in the Sky.
The headliners arrive on stage. Ostensibly a duo supplemented by a trio of hirsute touring musicians, watching them on TV at Glastonbury a couple of years ago attired in enormous tent like dresses with arms, the sort of garb you will see worn by a Eurovision entrant from the former Soviet Union performing a traditional folk style song that is poorly received but still finishes above the UK, I was not quite prepared for the appearance of lead singer Rian Teasdale adopting the strongman pose in white tank top, white hot pants and white knee high boots.
They open with new single catch these fists (their lower case again, not mine), a fun, riff heavy stomp along reminiscent to me of Franz Ferdinand followed by another from the as yet unreleased album before the familiar material of Oh No, Being In Love, Wet Dream and Supermarket from their self-titled debut are performed accompanied by a couple of thousand backing singers.
Teasdale dedicates a song to her partner Hester Chambers, both in the professional and personal sense. She has set up shop unobtrusively towards the back of the stage, creating the impression of being a hired touring hand and not part of the creative team, presumably less at ease with the limelight.
The setlist alternates over the hour between a few new ones, a few old ones before closing out with Chaise Longue, the audience singalong matching the volume of the band and finally another new one CPR (their upper case on this occasion) and that’s it.
So, enjoyable enough. I look forward to hearing the new album in full in due course but curiosity satisfied and itch scratched, I can’t imagine myself mustering sufficient enthusiasm to see them performing again in the arenas their trajectory appears to indicate. Likewise visits to the Academy itself.
