States of the Disorderly...

I guess this posting is a case of 'better late than never'...

I interviewed the Klaxons in their hotel lobby late last year, in Perth, just before a live show at Capitol Nightclub (see interview/review below). Before the rest of the band arrived, I sat with Simon Taylor-Davis for around an hour, chatting about the band's crazy year. My initial intention was to transcribe the whole interview word for word; which I may get around to doing when I get two seconds spare. Sitting with Simon reminded me of an interview I once heard with Damon Albarn, in Blur's early days. The two bands have many common threads, two decades apart. Anyway, for now, here is the interview/review:

If not for the Klaxons, 2007 would have been very different, and a lot less neon.

Capitol, resplendent in a hyper-colour sea of the young and glamorous, was testament to the band’s newfound celestial fame; proving the dance-meets-indie ‘nu-rave’ scene is now firmly a subculture and quasi-religion.

Glo-sticks aplenty, eyes glazed in fervour and mouths ajar, a carnal atmosphere greeted the scene’s demi-gods when they finally emerged through a miasma of sparkling lights. The stage was set for one of those special nights. Hours earlier, Klaxons’ guitarist, Simon Taylor-Davis, cradled a fresh cup of English Breakfast tea, ensconced in the quiet comfort of his hotel lobby.

In beautiful juxtaposition to the madness to ensue, Taylor-Davis was keen to chat about a year which has seen his band’s debut album, Myths of the Near Future, eclipse all expectations, win a 2007 Mercury award and forge a fashion-music beast inconceivable when they jokingly quipped in 2006, “we’re a ‘nu-rave’ band”.

“Not long ago, in London, there was a sense of urgency, the brink of losing control, and we became the ‘catalysts for carnage’,” laughed Taylor-Davis.

“We had friends bring glo-sticks to gigs, it all became a party, a joke, and suddenly we were poster children for our own revolution. Now on high streets everywhere, you can buy your complete ‘nu-rave outfit’.”

But was it all a beautiful plan?

“Of course it was!” chimed bassist Jamie Reynolds, bursting into the room with keyboardist James Righton, fresh from radio promo and cradling piles of free CDs.

“From day one it was about ideas. We couldn’t play instruments, but we started writing about fantastical nonsense, stole ideas from nineties dance music and played with weird concepts about the apocalypse.”

“In the end, we became a cut n’ paste pastiche pop band, with a collage of sound that we took to the mainstream,” said Taylor-Davis.

“Pity is, now we haven’t written a single song for 18 months!” said Righton, “and we need to sit down and make a new one. The next record is honestly going to be so much better. We’re really ready to start pouring ideas.”

In the meantime, however, life continues as a roller coaster of debauchery and endless sell-out tours. Carnage, of course, the operative word.

Later that night, the Klaxons literally assaulted Capitol with a wall of stripped-back, rough and raw sonority, paying homage to their post-punk influences.

Decidedly heavier than on record, Atlantis to Interzone, Totem on the Timeline and Golden Skans were affectingly delivered to a writhing pit of pheromones, serotonin and sweat.

By the time Two Receivers reached its crescendo, Capitol, the most painfully ill-conceived venue in history, was a messy feast for the zealous, and the Righton vs. Reynolds trademark vocal duo resonated beautifully.

“F**k New York and London, Perth is my new favourite place!” screamed Reynolds, before launching into their debut single, Gravity’s Rainbow.

Instrument swapping aplenty, guitar pedal mastery and vocal gymnastics all seemed effortless. Perth’s rapacious audience simply sapped the sonic energy.

Unfortunately, by the time Isle of Her and It’s Not Over Yet graced fans, the band was almost out of songs. It’s easy to forget the Klaxons are indeed a very young band with merely a handful of tunes to their name.

Returning for a raucous version of The Four Horsemen of 2012, there was no doubt the Klaxons are indeed the scribes of our musical future.

Later on, caked in post-gig sweat, amongst a landscape of beers bottles and grimy discarded glo-sticks, Simon Taylor-Davis had an epiphany: “You know what? I’m ready for the future! Bring on 2008, let’s rinse these ideas out and serve ‘em up.”

Article Published in The West Australian.