Kasabian : Islington Carling Academy 2
All hail! Post-Coopers-beat-rock grows legal...
his DNA, and right now he's coming to claim what's rightfully his, strutting around the stage amid a force-50 gale of swirling electronics and pulsating beats like he owns the place.
Admittedly, the Leicestershire mob take their time before bashing us around the temples with their evil breed of throbbing schizo-punk. Opener 'ID' may be a dazzling drug-fugged mantra, but it's more suited to soundtracking a bout of the munchies than rocketing your adrenal glands into orbit. And 'Processed Beats' - which should be the sound of 'Fools Gold' blaring out of a police riot van - spends a little too long sounding, well, a bit weedy really. But from here, [a]Kasabian[/a]'s arsenal of sonic WMD explodes, causing a trail of such extreme devastation it's not hard to see why George Bush has signed up as a celebrity fan. 'Reason Is Treason' is now a deliciously brutal slab of bulldozer-rock, shedding its [a]Primal Scream[/a]-coloured skin and rippling its biceps at innocent bystanders. And 'LSF' is the track [a]Happy Mondays[/a] would have written if they'd stolen even more cars and spent their days joyriding them into Korg factories.
It reaches a glorious meltdown with new single 'Club Foot', a song so intense that William Hill are taking odds as to which one
of Tom's vital organs is going to burst and
spill from his nostrils first. This is a noise
that could soundtrack the harshest brawls, yet also fits those moments of pill-guzzling bliss. Edgy, euphoric and electrifying: tonight [a]Kasabian[/a] set about their mission to bring rock'n'roll crashing to the ground. And believe us, it sure as hell won't go quietly.
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