Paris, France (May 22, 2015)
Over the course of my day and a half stay across The Channel in Paris, Iโm never exactly sure where I am. I mean, I know what Iโm next to, and our phones tell us how to get to the next thing we want to be next to, but my knowledge of the layout of the city is lacking. It looks compact on a map, and the places I arrive at seem to duplicate and then triplicate; along the route of the Seine, which we largely seem to be following, itโs as if Kensington, London has been copied and pasted everywhere. The cityโs 19th century opulence fuses with modern consumer culture. While the worldโs number one tourist city brings in visitors from all directions, the foundation it lays for them seems quite uniform next to other neoliberal, first world cityscapes.
Following touristy instincts, we go to the Louvre, but the queue looks so long that weโd have to whiz around the place before whisking ourselves off again to the Mew show, which is, after all, our primary raison dโรชtre here. We compromise and settle on the DโOrsay instead, third in popularity among Paris museums, but first in quality according to some who appear to be in the know. Which brings this review of a Mew show on to the Mew show it is a review of. We go east, taking two Metro trains, and come up at Gambetta. It looks like weโve not gone anywhere at all and the whole journey was a con, but the road ahead becomes grottier. And then weโre met with a wall of graffiti, and what looks like a pub front fenced in by metal bars, like some sort of pen for drunkards. It feels immediately surreal; Iโve only travelled across a narrow strip of sea, and all at once it strikes me that publicity for Mew has got a bit lost in transit. It feels like a Mew ghost town, that the vibrancy of Londonโs Roundhouse, where we had been only two days prior has vanished into thin air. The venueโs name, The Golden Arrow, is a bold statement.
The capacity here might be threeย hundred at a push, but itโs only half full. The stage is too small for the new light show, and weโre so close we can inspect the set list and the pedal boards as soon as theyโre arranged onstage. After Making Friendsโ synth cadence announces Silas Graaeโs arrival for his and Johan Wohlertโsย lurching intro to Witness, Johanโs bass amp is so loud I immediately back away from the stage and arc round the back of the crowd. The sound is better there, but so much chatter pervades the atmosphere that itโs hard to find the right balance between avoiding being among indifferent attendees, and finding a quality of sound which befits a Mew concert.
While a skeleton of their routine repertoire remains, tonightโs set list offers a couple of chances for experimentation. Itโs a โdrop off and goโ gig, a whistle stop show, and there arenโt so many people here; any belly flopping will only linger in the minds of a select few. While the overpowering velocity of Mew shows usually means you canโt hear much, if any, detail in their playing, the volume restrictions tonight mean every nuance is distinct. When Iโm down front I can hear unamplified guitars being tuned between songs. The intimacy, both in the size of the crowd and in the relative quiet of performance, is made even more unusual by the dichromatic light accompaniment. In many ways it feels like a rehearsal in a dilapidated pub disguised as a music venue. You can call it special, and by Frengers I speak to after the show its specialness is treasured, but I feel a bit torn. Itโs totally unlike any Mew show Iโve been to before, and itโs my first time seeing them play a headline show outside of the UK. Those novelties give it a novel air, but the unusualness is also partly reflective of a band finding their feet in relatively uncharted territories.
The set is scattershot; golden oldies stride among the eveningโs whims. A live premiere of the album version of Making Friends is somewhat disjointed and falls straight into Introducing Palace Players, which is performed for the first time without its extended, bitonally discordant intro. The fact that it hasnโt been played in any form in six years is made all the more surprising by being one of the most enthusiastically received songs of the night. A crystalline rendition of Special has the crowd at its liveliest. And, as the set list had warned us, Coffee Break draws the set to a close. While Coffee Break had been the show opener in the Nordic winter tour last year, the irony of a band starting shows with the final song from their now antique first album is lost, and the effect is probably not all that different to that it would have had nearly two decades ago. Comforting Sounds doesnโt end most of their shows for nothing, that becomes clear; thereโs an inescapable resolution that their signature piece brings to live shows. Its tipped-to-be natural successor, Rows, which incidentally is so-called because it began its life as an instrumental composition, one which the band viewed as โrows of ideasโ, isnโt being played yet, although it might feature later in the tour. Iโm left wondering how much more Iโd gain from these performances if they threw much more at me that was new. A Mew show is always to be savoured for myriad reasons, but after hearing live outings of these songs so many times, my reasons for enjoyment become less the songs themselves.
After the show thereโs a big conglomeration of Frengers on the street outside, and the band are wandering around. Therein lies an enhancer of the experience. When the community of fans gathers around Mewโs live appearances, thereโs an energy, a positivity that seems to spread. Mew do their job, and they do it invariably well, but their fanbase adds an extra dimension. Making a direct connection with otherwise distant entities brings out a personality to the shows themselves, even when the monolithic strand of songs which the band never seem to tire of remains the same. We linger near the venue until 2 AM, until the last Frengers have drifted off in their own directions, and we begin to head homeward.
As we walk towards the other side of Paris, towards our morning departure, we hone in on the buzz from the show and the human paraphernalia that complemented it. We arc around LโArc De Triomphe, and fall asleep at the bus station.
Text: Gustav Greijer
Photos: Harald Hjerting
Photo Gallery
Setlist: La Flรจche dโOr
Witness / Satellites / The Night Believer / Beach / Silas The Magic Car / Making Friends / Introducing Palace Players / My Complications / Eight Flew Over, One Was Destroyed / Am I Wry? No / 156 / Apocalypso / Saviours of Jazz Ballet / Medley (Clinging To A Bad Dream / The Zookeeperโs Boy / Louise, Louisa) —– / Special / The Zookeeperโs Boy / Coffee Break