I was so ready to not leave the flat again, on a Sunday evening no less, on a knackering week of moving house. But Mahoney texted me with a last minute invitation for cheap tickets to see Future Islands at the Beacon, and I thought, sure, why not. Out I trekked.
I’m not the biggest fan of Future Islands, in the “not listened to them loads” sense rather than the “actively dislike them” sense - I know Seasons, I’ve listened to the last couple of albums, including this year’s, and I’ve seen them at All Points East a few years ago, so I knew I was going to enjoy it enough.
It’s a mixed bag, the gig itself. The mix isn’t great and that’s really not aided by Herring’s vocal style and delivery, which is significantly mumblier live than on record. If he’s not belting out the chorus, you’re not hearing him. It wasn’t universally bad, but considering the otherwise faultless acoustics in the redesigned and redeveloped Beacon Hall, it does feel like it’s a them problem. Still, though, the effort is being put in by the band, and Herring is a force of nature to watch on stage.
The audience, though, are absolutely not helping matters. Abysmal stuff, exemplified by the almost patronising extended rapture of ovation after the band play Seasons. Future Islands are better than being seen as a one-hit wonder, and it’s a shame that this is how most of the crowd seemed to perceive them tonight. It must be galling.
I did unfortunately ruin the gig for Mahoney by leaning over to him halfway through and pointing out that Samuel Herring does just sound like Vic Reeves’ club singer. Sorry, Mahoney.