This new film about Oasis’s glory years is rousing, heart-rending and really f**king funny
The gap between ethereal and mundane shouldn't be so slender, but then Broadcast love to defy expectations...
Tonight's gig is part of a short, low-key tour and Broadcast are crammed onto the stage, the intimate surroundings adding even greater gravity to their enveloping sound. Despite the heat of 200 tightly compressed bodies there's a palpable chill in the air as 'Long Was the Night' uncoils eerily from the motley banks of analogue junk and Trish Keenan's seductive voice weaves its way through the gently-pulsing machines.
Initially, Broadcast's bookish anti-charisma actually aids their cause - there's a real feeling that the band are mere conduits for some greater creative force - but the spell simply can't last. The longer the set continues, the more Broadcast are content to wander aimlessly down the cold dark corridors of their daydreams, the hypnotic 'Unchanging Window' a brief moment of magic in a sea of desolate grey. You yearn for some of Pram's genuine weirdness, Stereolab's exotic cool or even Dead Can Dance's crushing portent. Broadcast, for all their undeniable charm, can be incredibly dull.
Maybe they're simply too emotionally detached. So, it's no surprise that what finally rescues them is the brutal finale, 'Hammer Without A Master', which finds them locked into an incessant industrial groove with Trish's voice reduced to a chilling howl. Maybe no-one's ever told Broadcast they're beautiful when they're angry.
Delving into the murk and noise of their past, the Boston veterans’ second post-reunion album is a superlative indie rock collection
Two kings of the indie dancefloor unite for a warm, timeless take on 20th century pop and rock
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