Jeniferever

If The Kissaway Trail continue to grow from gig to gig at their present pace, expect the Danes to be filling Wembley roughly a year from now.

The Bella Union-signed five-piece – sprightly of feet but weighty of emotions – are attention-grabbing tonight in the best way possible; they let their music do every ounce of the talking, never once resorting to any ulterior tactics to ensnare the assembled many. Their set is drawn wholly from their new (debut) album, a self-titled offering, but although the songs making up said collection have been ricocheting about this writer’s head for going on six months now, when rendered live they are blessed with a vivaciousness, a vibrancy, that counters their familiarity.

Dancing on tip-toes and exchanging vocal roles with speed, the quintet roll through their ‘Smother + Evil = Hurt’ single in breathless and breathtaking style; while its an obvious high of their recorded output, the song’s not a head-and-shoulder stand-out tonight – the band is too consistent, too accomplished, to be reduced to a handful of memorable moments. The whole experience sticks with the attendee for days, weeks afterwards; they should one day, soon, be playing to far larger crowds.

It’s a complete surprise, then, that Devastations trump their support act in terms of captivation and applause-drawing – the Australian outfit, currently located in Berlin, walk an ever-so-fine line between soul-prickling torch songs and bleak alt-country best delivered by the most lonely of outsiders. Their front man, Conrad Standish, is the lithe lothario at the centre of the band’s most lusty arrangements; his deep, rumbling tones are quite unlike those of many a microphone hogging man before him, but echoes of artists familiar permeate the often sparse compositions that surround his words. The Black Heart Procession are in here, somewhere; buried, no doubt, in the desert, their throats split by the blade of an Aussie whose face you never completely catch.

The band’s latest LP, Coal, is out now; while it lacks the magnetic pull of its makers’ live show, it’s a fine album dominated by shade and melancholy. It’s strange, really, that such pleasure can be found in pits of ill feelings and heartache, but in Devastations’ case it’s a far-from-guilty experience. We’re in this together, as human as each other, as flawed – all Devastations do, and brilliantly so, is expose these foibles. And then slice them open and leave them in the noon sun.

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Photograph by Louise Yeandle_