Narc. Magazine Online
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Dominic Stephenson enjoys an evening of cavernous melodies courtesy of Do Nothing and refreshing aural approaches from Humour
Image: Humour
Humour arrived in the waning days of the latest post-post- renaissance, and sound all the better for it. Frontman Andreas Christodoulidis’ elasticated vocals are a refreshing twist on the often stale spoken word modus, while the lyricism itself is laced with acerbic and nonsensical references. A restless rhythm section was hastened by razor-wire guitar lines, akin to the likes of Protomartyr, and they share a sense of biting nihilism under the surface. The Halfwit has been on repeat since summer, with genuine despair in its massive chorus and this raw emotion will continue to propel the Glaswegian quintet forward.
A majestic setlist spanned the length of Do Nothing’s now extensive discography. The Nottingham quartet came out swinging with the rumbling bass and pneumatic drumming of oldie Gangs, followed by woozy number Glueland. They’ve immersed themselves in cavernous melody on new tracks Fine and The Needle, the former possessing an almost gospel-like intro, while lockdown-era New Life is always an electrified occasion. Frontman Chris Bailey cuts a waltzing figure, his semi-spoken vocal delivery perfect for their tunes, and Kasper Sandstrom’s guitar work is frosty yet jubilant – the brand of this band’s sound. They also currently have a touring member on guitar and keys, sprucing up these polished arrangements in a live setting. Nerve is a delicious sing-along and one of the best they’ve ever written, while during the encore LeBron James still packs as much of a punch as did all those years ago, before they close with fan favourite Handshakes. Do Nothing aren’t quite as jagged compared to earlier years, but that’s not to say they’ve lost any impetus; instead, they’re fully embracing this new silky smooth chapter.
