Beach House, White Hinterland

I hope my reception of the gig was not influenced by how tired I felt on 1st of June 2010, a delayed arrival at Heathrow at 3am, waiting for the tube to open, coming home at 6am, destroying a pigeon nest on the balcony, going to work at 1pm and straight after work to Heaven. I was fresh after Primavera, where, as my Dearest Readers realise, I had seen Beach House as well. But Beach House are special. And deserve all the effort. Not so much White Hinterland, an act that that tried my patience but I might imagine that some of my Readers would enjoy it.

Anyway, it was all about Beach House that night, a band I treasure.

Sadly, Heaven is not a perfect venue, with the stage up high and far away. You look up. I took my camera which, I came to a conclusion, I hate even more than my camera phone but it is good for my 'roadie' shots - please see above Alex Scully before the gig. The gig was the band's 13th gig, as they duly counted, we have to trust them on that, and they were slightly apprehensive given number 13's notoriety. It was going fairly okay until one of the stage embellishments (whatever they are called) fell. Luckily, no one was hurt, but it was hilarious as I was looking in that direction, I could see the thing swirling and falling. So that was the sign of bad luck. The show was brilliant, with a new song and quite a few older songs which I thoroughly enjoyed. I always wonder how old Victoria Legrand is as her lyrics sound mature and on a very decent literary level, or perhaps it is just the French blood in her.

During this gig I turned my attention from the ever charismatic singer to the guitarist who I saw came to Panda Bear gig at Primavera, focused entirely on the music. I would not say he is immensely talented but there is a specific sound to his guitar and the way he moves that make him quite unique. I felt sorry that in Bush Hall I ignored his performance.

On the whole, Beach House, slightly exhausted I could tell, made an effort and played a great gig.

Beach House

Essentially, Dearest Readers, my aim was to deliver this splendid review of a gig that brought tears to my eyes, mainly, Beach House in Bush Hall on 17th February 2010. I shall not go into details of how difficult it was to get to the venue considering that Liverpool station was closed and there seemed to be no other way that the strange way to get to the west part of London. Oh joy. Arriving just in time for folky Lawrence Arabia, which was a strange way to start the evening musically but slowly progressing to the front row only to forget myself staring at Victoria or rather Victoria Legrand's hands and, how fetishist of me, boots. I completely forgot that there was Alex on guitar and a man unknown on drums. I was mesmerised.

Dearest Readers, I quite liked the album, but I feel I understand it better after the gig, and consequently, love it as it should be loved. There is unbelievable dreaminess and warmth about Beach House, and there is something I like to call musical talent. Bear with me for a second, while I explain. Talent can be a burden, you do not need talent to please Undula's ear, sometimes an idea is enough but with Beach House - there is plenty of talent and one idea that spans across the albums and live music. There are recurring musical themes and they do it so well.

I can tell my Dearest Readers are losing patience and, in all probability, have no idea what I intended to express apart from the standard what a great band. But it certainly was an event of the brought tears to my eyes kind. I did not want them to go.

One more word about Victoria Legrand who is an immensely charismatic person, entertaining the audience during the slider quest, controlling the musical output, playing the keyboard with closed eyes (I know I know, I am easily impressed) and being ultimately, but ultimately, sexy.

Dearest Readers, please go and see for yourselves.