Dry Cleaning - Live at The Louisiana
There may have been a storm battering the UK for the third weekend in a row, but inside the small Bristol Louisiana (Feb 29th) there’s sweat dripping from every attendee’s pores.
Dry Cleaning are slowly but surely building up a dedicated fanbase having recently taken up a mini-residency on BBC 6Music, and it’s not hard to ascertain why: there’s nothing else like them at this point in time. The musicianship isn’t especially original (consisting as it does of guitar, bass and drums) nor are Florence Shaw’s insights about the mundanity of life, but the delivery is unique.
It’s hopefully not doing Shaw a disservice to say that she isn’t really a singer, more a quasi-poet raging against elements of 21st century life, albeit in tone rather than volume or animation. The frontwoman is zen-like in her performance, at various points either staring blankly into the middle distance or looking quizzically at the audience, perhaps surprised that we are so entranced. Like Liam Gallagher, she has made a lack of movement beguiling.
Her bandmates, in contrast, are a bit more recognisable. Tom Dowse on guitar, who has the determination to wrench as many sounds as he can from his instrument with vigour, is a more traditional indie rocker (beard, long hair), whilst Nick Buxton on drums is clean cut. Threatening to upstage Shaw (and nearly coming close) is bassist Lewis Maynard, who’s full Spinal Tap, gurning at the audience and rocking out like he’s playing Wembley. All in all, they are a motley looking crew, with the instrumentalists unbridled in their joy at being able to live their dreams.
With two EPs under their belt, Dry Cleaning have enough material to deliver a strong set. They roar into life on ‘Spoils’ as Dowse’s guitar goes from gnarly to spiky. Musically the band have a variety of influences; ‘Dog Proposal’ sounds like a lost Cure track, ‘Viking Hair’ has a sheen reminiscent of The Cars, while in a more general way the sound is reminiscent of Sonic Youth’s lo-fi moments. An exception is ‘New Job’, which is lo-fi on record but live carries itself like a muscular Television. At points the supporting music to Shaw’s diatribes is repetitive, but only when necessary, i.e. when the song is focused on what she’s saying.
And she has a lot to say: sometimes it seems like random meanderings, such as on ‘Traditional Fish’ which, at first, appears to be little more than a list of things she’s read when out and about (‘chicken burger pizza’). However, even when doing so it’s compelling, her delivery streams of consciousness for her own sake, which is what art ultimately is (although the presence of a music stand in front of her with lyric sheets shatters that illusion somewhat). On occasion, the subject matter is more apparent, such as the tragic heroine of ‘Viking Hair’, and ‘Magic Of Meghan’, a presumed ode to the former princess.
Rarely less than acidic, sometimes she opts to sing, as on ‘Sit Down Meal’ and generally sounds flat, but one suspects that’s the intention: despite their name and subject matter, Dry Cleaning are anything but dull.