Xiu Xiu

When you think about it, there aren’t actually that many truly terrifying bands out there. Okay, so we all fear some bands – some of those Norwegian death metal bands maybe? Slipknot? Hmmm, not really though. Keane? Yeah, definitely, but for different reasons, so they don’t count. You see? It really is difficult to think of many people producing music that one could honestly describe as disturbing; it’s usually the face paint and gallons of fake blood that do the trick and not the music itself.

Xiu Xiu, on the other hand, are a truly fucking scary bunch of bastards. Since their debut in 2002, they have released some of the bleakest music imaginable, sugar-coated as a kind of poppy low-fi new wave. Breakups, sex and death, war and overdoses – subjects that have been covered a thousand-and-one times since rock 'n' roll began and yet with Xiu Xiu they are somehow treated afresh. And each hurtful and shocking experience is pored over in lurid, gory detail.

“We’re from the land of gold and sunshine,” front man Jamie Stewart proclaims as he and Lauren Andrews take to the tiny stage at Needles, “and this is Californian rock!” he adds emphatically. And then, just to demonstrate how very unlike The Eagles Xiu Xiu are, they open with ‘Fabulous Muscles’ - the title track from their recent LP. In its essence a guitar ballad, the song is gentle and pretty. That is until one pays closer attention to Stewart’s breathless sweet nothings: “Fabulous muscles/Cremate me after you cum on my lips/Honey boy, place my ashes in a vase beneath your workout bench.” It’s a suicidal love song about empty sex and unrequited love and it’s quite a stunning way to open a set. The song is fleshier live than on record, Stewart’s spiky telecaster strumming underpinned by Andrew’s rolling keyboard line, the vocals whispered and hushed. It’s also an impressive start by a band with more than half the band members missing – presumably due to a tight touring budget.

And then we wait. For about three minutes. A small stage means more rearranging and less band members means more work for those present. And not being able to hear a drum machine, as Stewart points out, “means this show might have a few free jazz moments.” Finally they arrange themselves suitably and the drum machine cranks out the opening to ‘I Broke Up (SJ)’. The drums and synths pulse and build until Stewart lets out what can only be described as a Satan-meets-Frank-Black lung-wrenching scream. “THIS IS THE WORST VACATION EVERRRRR!” he howls. It’s childish, petulant, absurd and utterly wonderful.

And then we wait some more. The pauses between the songs ultimately mar the performance as they become protracted and longer than the songs themselves. It’s frustrating because if Xiu Xiu managed to play with momentum, the gig could have been incredible. The skewed pop of ‘Crank Heart’ - like a glitchier Joy Division - the glorious, clattering anthem ‘Clowne Towne’; the songs themselves are perfect. They close the set with ‘I Luv the Valley OH!’, an unnervingly beautiful track about, yep, love and suicide. Let’s hope the next time they come to the UK they bring the rest of the band with them.