June 25, 2007
Mean Fiddler, London; Monday June 11
A lanky Frenchman in leisurewear pulls aside a sheet to reveal a gigantic luminous cross and a thousand pilgrims clasp their hands in the air. Two hairy men appear – they do look a little like Jesus – to address their throng. As they speak, those gathered shake up their own illuminated crucifix necklaces and convulse with excitement.
Gaspard and Xavier don’t talk in the words of mere mortals though, rather these miracle-makers employ two laptops, two keyboards and four busy hands to turn 8pm Monday night rock club water into flowing jugs of incandescent wine. Their genesis is marked appropriately by ‘Genesis’, the opening of forthcoming astonishing album ‘†’ – a deft Daft Punk-inspired mix of Cassius, Jean Michel Jarre and everything French and synthy in-between that’s set to see them cast off the Simian-shaped albatross and bask in their own glory.
‘D.A.N.C.E.’ subsides into the diseased bass retch of ‘The Fallen’ – an extended mute/loud anthem as the My Name Is Earl moustachio’d one holds the glowing congregation in the palm of his
EQ-tweaking hand. Then tonight’s penultimate reading: ‘We Are Your Friends’’ synth stabs mercilessly into the berserk siren of ‘Atlantis To Interzone’ and the LED-laden shrine shakes. They’re off. They’re back, and ‘…Friends’, ‘Atlantis…’ and ‘D.A.N.C.E.’ all make a recycled reprieve for the after-party encore. The first signs of their breakthrough are right here. Justice has been done.
To read all our reviews first - days before they appear online - check out NME magazine, on sale every Wednesday