“Moderat is a very dark show. Please do not use any kind of flash or light for filming”.
In retrospect this entirely fruitless [people actually photograph the sign, hilariously enough] pre-gig plea from the gloomy stage was almost accurate; well it is – for about 20 minutes – but when things kick into gear, it’s strobes, lasers and projections a go go; subtle it ain’t, dark even less so.
In fact, despite the German three piece dealing in mood as much as melody, not a great deal of tonight is subtle; these are big room tunes, for a joyfully big room crowd; once you absorb all this it’s a reasonably and noisily enjoyable evening.
Impressive and acceptably banging that’s for sure; though things are very much synth-led as opposed to beats, which sometimes makes for a sound queasily close the popular end of some of Ibiza’s current, pseudo-edgy vibe; it’s far from Calvin Harris-style blandness, but when space and thumpingly galloping percussion is allowed to breath a little amongst the emoting, there’s more thrills and groove to be had.
‘Rusty Nails’ is one such tune with louche but rictus drums, seemingly growing more out of the dancefloor than back into a club from a songwriting session; it benefits massively from being allowed to evolve for longer; a fair few tracks tonight seem to end just as they are getting interesting, disappointingly.
Whether all this is popular – and it certainly is, particularly when gauged against the day jobs as the still relatively speaking underground Modeselektor and Apparat – or populist, is the nub; it’s accessible but they have artistic pretensions; a fine, very fine, line to tread.
They just about pull it off though it remains slightly baffling the acclaim heaped upon them from within and without the hall; they’re good but pretty unremarkable; perhaps the appeal is less to a crowd that might go clubbing and more to gig-goers; if it’s not ludicrous to delineate so fascistically – it is, clearly, but you get the point.
It’s well paced, spectacularly well-produced, aesthetically pleasing with the ever so artful, occultish / ecclesiastical visuals and yet, there’s little sense of danger, of anything shocking about to occur.
Sure, there’s the odd moment to cause tingles, but at the end of the day it’s an efficient, in no way whatsoever threatening, jaunt through some decent, European electronic action; no more, no less.
Fine enough but a touch too polished and clinical; I’d not sell my granny to see ’em and she’s dead so wouldn’t be too fussed if I did to be honest.
Dark, could be darker.
Words: Vosne Malconsorts
