Wednesday 16th October 2013 by Andrew Trendell | Photos by Andy Sidders

Tags: These New Puritans

On ‘New Puritan’, the Fall track from which TNP derive their moniker, Mark E Smith barks in his idiosyncratic style: “The experimental is now conventional, the conventional is now experimental”. TNP have always played off these two poles to dizzying effect.

At present, they’re a group who, for the most part, perform music befitting of a neo-classical ensemble under the guise of being an alternative rock band. As such, they escape the expectations an audience might pin to either entity. However, as there’s no default mode in which to receive their music, to make anything of it you do actually have to put all your energy into listening.

Live, this has some repercussions in terms of crowd response, as is evident tonight. There’s no dancing or singing along with reckless abandon from folks assured they know these songs inside out. Indeed, this music’s special appeal is that it’s somewhat unknowable. Still, it’s odd to see a song like ‘Attack Music’ with its huge wall of doubled up percussion, met by almost zero movement. It makes you imagine a Venn diagram consisting on one circle labelled ‘bands that could make a beat like this’ and another labelled ‘bands whose fans wouldn’t dance to a beat like this’ with the letters ‘TNP’ inscribed in microscopic script onto the single pixel’s worth of space where the two overlap.

Lack of movement aside, one of the most interesting things about the night’s performance is how the mix of samples, loops, electronics and traditional instrumentation translates into a live setting. On record, TNP put such thought into every second of sound that it all levels out. Everything is equally important, be it a watermelon hit with a hammer, a synthesised horn or a full orchestra. This ethos creates some delightful confusion when you’re actually watching the band. In ‘We Want War’, at the point when that sabre-being-unsheathed sound occurs, one person palpably flinches. Another rises onto the balls of his feet and scans the stage for the phantom blade. Another wonderful aspect of the band’s live set up is that Elisa Rodrigues features more prominently than she does on ‘Field of Reeds’.

On ‘Eternal Organ’, the triumphant highlight of the set, the Portuguese Fado singer and Barnett sing in blissful harmony, his voice acting as an anchor as hers merges majestically with the flood of brass.

Even when she’s out of the equation the band are phenomenal. The material on their last release was easy enough to get lost in. It thrived on the uncertainty it aroused in listeners. The only thing it would allow you to be certain of was its mercurial nature (“You asked if the island would float away…I replied: YES!”). Tonight we have the imposing Jack Barnett in front of us to guide us through his vision, which is invaluable.

During the extended outro of ‘V (Island Song)’ he turns his back on the crowd and conducts the band through a groove something like Radiohead’s ‘National Anthem’, but with the sense of hysteria replaced by an ambivalence towards the oblivion into which it slides. It’s as great to watch as it is to hear.