What could be further from a Sunday night in an encroachingly cold Glasgow? That would be Goat, hailing from Korpilombolo, Sweden, an enigmatic, shifting body of performers motivated to bring heat, noise and psychedelic confusion to the bare and sterile SWG3 pre-entrance.
The collective (founded in inspiration by ritualistic voodoo practices) blend Hendrix-esque fuzz, Afro-beat and some suspiciously metal drumming to the grand assault of something that is entirely magical., tonight iconic songs ‘Let it Bleed’ and ‘Run to Your Mama’ are upheld with an intensity exceeding recorded material.
Crucially we are in the hands of two sorcerous, chanting frontwomen, who dance in a manic co-ordination, at one point waving sticks of bamboo, bulrushes, or some kind of staff into the hyper pit gathered at their feet.
Elemental to the paradoxical perfection is the costumes; ceremonial head-dresses, kimonos and a plethora of paisley blend together in a fantastically Mighty Boosh manner, however the mystery behind the identity of the performers becomes immediately irrelevant once they begin weaving their performance.
It may be part of their success, or it may be that when so little focus is placed on the ‘self’ of the performer (so infrequent in the mundane ability to peep into just about any new artists lunch bowl, thanks Instagram) that we can truly focus on the music and getting transported to another realm if only for an evening.
Canonic album World Music is hypnotically perfect, especially when we get to ‘Goatman’, grounded in funk, a dirty guitar riff and simultaneously gifted an anthemic, instructional chant.
Latest release ‘Commune’ delights with the wild, World-musical ‘Talk to God’ that blends African drums with a jangly guitar riff, this cut and paste-quality to their music is no small feat, what impresses is their ability to dutifully pay homage to each style in their own unique chaos that momentarily brings the otherworldly into focus.
Goat bring their luminous jamming frenzy with a cosmic force, warming, vivid, and the ability to transform a tame, dreary Glasgow evening into a festival-like frenzy there appears no bounds to their infectious fun.
Words: Heather O’Donnell
Photos: Nadia Murdoch