The Button Factory

Just over a year ago, Little Dragon performed at Dublin's Crawdaddy to an audience of not much more than a dozen punters. This evening, by contrast, having initially been booked to play that same small venue once again, the Swedes find themselves in a Button Factory that's as packed as your reviewer can ever remember seeing it. The band will presumably be sending a grateful Christmas card or two Damon Albarn's way – since their appearance on the last Gorillaz album (their two co-written contributions ranking among Plastic Beach’s highlights) their profile has soared to occasionally silly levels.

But it hasn't simply been a case of hitching a ride on the Blur man's coattails: previous albums Little Dragon (2007) and Machine Dreams ('09) – along with a history of wisely-chosen collaborations (frontwoman Yukimi Nagano, in particular, has shared studio time with José González and SBTRKT, among others, in recent times) – haven't done them any harm at all in the popularity stakes; nor, judging by that NME Cool List mention as well as the number of lovesick, Movember-'tachioed indie boys in tonight's crowd, have Nagano's striking Scandinasian looks and playful eccentricity.

Ritual Union, the Gothenburg natives' third LP from earlier this year, however, represents an undeniable turning-point for the band - the record that's finally brought them close to the precipice marked mainstream popularity. A continuation of LD’s shift away from the eclectic and often jazzy arrangements seen on that self-titled debut towards a more cohesive and (dare we say it) accessible sound, the album utilises rhythm as its central force around which the band weave their quirky synthesis of soul, R&B, pop and jazz - to frequently stunning effect.

Unsurprisingly, the bulk of this evening's set is drawn from that breakthrough long-player, and the band’s treatment of their material bears all the hallmarks of many years' experience. Much like Caribou, this is a band who've spent the last half a decade refining the tricky art of crafting layered headphones music that also caters for the needs of adrenalised festival crowds. While on record, therefore, much of Ritual Union possesses a sparse, dreamy feel that may require several listens to get to grips with, its live incarnation sees the songs' rhythmic elements being foregrounded to the point that several of tonight's cuts feel like extended disco edits of the original album versions.

Each track, from the LP's eponymous lead single to other highlights like 'Brush The Heat' and 'Shuffle A Dream', tonight rides a consistently rock-solid metronomic groove, with each of the five band members – including recently-returned touring keyboardist Arild Werling – deftly adding layers of beats and textures, both digital and analogue, to the mix. And speaking of keyboards, the extravagantly-bearded Håkan Wirenstrand stands impassively over his bank of synths like a missing (Viking) member of Kraftwerk, while Nagano confidently claims centre stage, often taking advantage of the instrumental breaks to bash a drum pad or cowbell. Again, the constant equation seems to be that more rhythm equals more good times, and it’s one that proves hard to refute as the gig wears on.

A dramatic finale sees the band segue from the heady, polyrhythmic climax of Machine Dreams cut 'Blinking Pigs' into 'Twice', the gorgeously soulful and otherworldy opener from their self-titled debut. It's an ending that also serves as a reminder – as if one were needed after a show this good – of the depth of talent at this band's disposal. The only real surprise is how long it's taken the record-buying public to discover Little Dragon's roar.

Photo courtesy of Colm Kelly. Go here to view a full gallery of his shots from the gig, which also features one or two snaps of opening act White Hinterland.

Arriving a little late to a Matmos gig is a bit like gatecrashing a college lecture: by the time Ragged Words arrives this evening, Drew Daniel, M.C. Schmidt and co. have the full attention of the seated Button Factory audience, and the first number is already in full swing.

The opening piece features a participatory performance from a choir of volunteers – an accumulation of enthusiastic Irish fans, basically – who are eagerly chanting along with the sound sculpture that's being crafted onstage by the experimental duo. The juxtaposition of primitive chants and sci-fi sounds suggests some weird coupling of occultism and science – not necessarily the sort of thing we usually go in for on a Monday night! Not for the last time tonight, the influence of Schmidt's past involvement with The San Fransisco Art Institute is apparent; however, an atmosphere that might otherwise border on sterile is dissipated when he looks up at the end of the exercise and cracks an infectiously bold smile.

As the set progresses it quickly becomes clear that, while these guys certainly reside on the more avant-garde fringes of electronic music, what they really specialise in is playing with music, as opposed to merely playing it. A bewildering spirit of discovery and improvisation combined with such a high level of both musical and technological mastery onstage is a rare enough occurrence nowadays, and if the enthusiastic reception each track receives this evening is anything to go by, it's also a very welcome one.

Matmos are most famed for generating music from unusual sources, and their final track tonight is an excellent example of this: joined onstage by support act and fellow sonic explorer John Wiese, Schmidt demonstrates his prowess at abstracting every conceivable sound from just a couple of prayer bowls, three bottles of water and an empty beer can. This is all conducted in hazardously close proximity to the (decidedly non-water-resistant) electronics Daniel is using to build a tapestry of noise by looping and affecting these found sounds. This experimental finale inevitably culminates in high volumes of water being consumed and the beer can being torn to shreds at the mic. We can't have been the only ones left scratching our heads somewhat as we headed for the door.

(Photo courtesy of John Kealy. Read Fiona Diffley's in-depth interview with Matmos's Drew Daniel here.)

A vaudeville act of ostentatious theatre cannot fail to entertain any of those who are summoned to view this fantastical show.

With the stage at times appearing like the deleted scenes from The Rocky Horror Picture Show, singer and band founder Kevin Barnes fronts the extravagance. Bedecked in an emerald green baroque bolero* and a ruffled, Elizabethan blouse, he is accompanied in surreal appearance by the guitarist, Bryan Poole, sporting a shock of pink hair and clad in a chequered waistcoat, a loose tie and large Icarus-like wings sprouting from his shoulders.

They and the rest of the band are periodically joined onstage by a smattering of extras and bizarre characters whose variety is matched by their eccentricity. It begins with a geriatric domestic argument featuring a brisk face slap and from there it delves deeper into their collective imagination. Be prepared for tuxedo-ed tigers slaughtering upright-walking piggies, sequined ninjas stalking through the stage, a dinosaur-headed Superman, amongst many fanciful others. However it is Barnes who is in the ascendancy- it is he who is regal, looking and acting like the impossible offspring of Prince and Queen. Eventually, after numerous wardrobe changes and costume cast-offs, he emerges naked, but for a body suit of shaving foam then jumps into, and is enveloped by, the excited crowd.

Now, three paragraphs into a live music review and not a single word on the music itself… what gives? This shouldn't be misunderstood as the music is worthy of mention. A glance at my notes of the gig tells the story as many styles and audio points of reference were hastily scribbled. When the fizz ran out of each though, there was always a shift: a new performance appearing during a long guitar solo or a change of tack in the sound. Mostly the new performance sparked fresh life but there was a sneaking suspicion that all was not quite what it could be. Barnes is a man of great talent with a fine flair for a lyrical flourish but too often did you wonder whether your attention would be equally held, if the show was shorn of its visually arresting follies.

It would be grossly unfair to assert that Of Montreal's live show is all style, no substance, as their theatricality adds much to the enjoyment. It is a show that will take long to forget and will entertain even those who wouldn't enjoy the music. Perhaps, there lies the rub. It could be said that it is a show first, music second.

*Thanks must go to Hazel Pfeiffer of Image Magazine for her style input.