More about: Butch KassidyKyoto KyotoRed Mar

My night began, as it often does, with a satiating, canned gin and tonic on the number 73 bus. This time hurtling towards The Lexington for Kyoto Kyoto’s single release show, with Butch Kassidy and Red Mar, hosted by Blitzcat Records. 

I snuggled into a nice spot on the couch by the bar and surveyed the scene, Red Mar astage. They purveyed an aural scape reminiscent of deep whale sounds, as if their previous heavy riffing had vexed the room into slow motion. They themselves embodied the look of slow-moving creatures, but visually more like zombies than the deft grace of whales. Gaunt facial expressions, stunted gaits across the stage. There was a King Krule desperation in their drawling and the noise was biiiiiig, justified by the many blurry hands on stage. I actually wanted to cheer but it didn’t seem like the vibe. 

Maybe it was the pre-emptive gin and tonic, maybe it was the insomulent purple lighting but damn, the crowd were gorgeous. And had really filled in over the course of Red Mar’s set, for which I did eventually cheer at the end. 

In the break, chatting to some industry professionals, I confessed that while Butch Kassidy was a familiar name to me, I had never seen them or heard any of their music. As it turns out this is not entirely down to ignorance, it seems the band have a reputation for elusivity, having only recorded and released one single - Heath. So how come everybody’s heard of them? They play a lot of gigs. And how can they suss so many gigs? They’ve got two managers. 

Alas, with their reputation preceding them, Butch Kassidy began their set. And I enlisted myself as a member of the gorgeous crowd, who were all a lot taller than they had seemed from my cosy couch perch. 

What ensued was the soundtrack to a catastrophe. I felt like I lived through the entire plot of 28 Days Later. I have never seen a drummer thrash like that on a kit before, let alone one who was wearing a Bob Marley t-shirt, all four limbs moving indescribably fast. He had at his feet what I believe was a bag of climbing chalk, which he periodically doused his hands with. The crowd were driven into a frenzy, the mosh became somewhat intimidating, and I released all of my previous inhibitions about screaming. There was discussion later on about whether a particular high pitched, off-kilter riff was a nod to a Two Door Cinema Club song, but it seemed unlikely. 

The changeover music between Butch and Kyoto had me losing my mind and hearing. Everyone was properly amped and everyone wanted a spot at the front, few would survive. Nine people walked on stage. All of them gorgeous. The chorus of four backing singers was haunting and cult-like. The expression of the cello player was godly and ritualistic. The repetitive chanting of the single, So, with its cascading riffs and drilling drums, united us all in a battle - against what I don’t know, but we definitely would have scared something off. I imagined it to be the music they play in the depths of hell. The floor under the mosh flexed under our rebounding weight. Kyoto Kyoto set us on a trajectory which could not be defined as upwards or downwards, it was more like implosion. 

I should say at this point that I have no idea how many songs were played by any of the bands on this line up. It was more of an amalgamated score; Kyoto Kyoto were UNignorable and all-encompassing when they wanted our attention but there were moments of downtime which we used to our advantage to chat and exchange eyebrow-raised looks of disbelief. 

The band appeared knowing and nonchalant. Lights on and a big, but humble thank you, a cordially smug nod. They knew what they had just done. 

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More about: Butch KassidyKyoto KyotoRed Mar