The Horrors @ The Warehouse Project 2011 review
"The Warehouse Project is a breeding ground for hedonism."
Daniel Pratley - 18 October 2011
The Warehouse Project is a breeding ground for hedonism. A gig in a cavernous railway arch and a post
shipping forecast kick-off will undoubtedly be coloured by contraband. Tonight is no different, with a line-up swaying from
the standard industrial beats to one curated by current indie darlings The
Horrors, the Warehouse Project is stacked with the usual goggle-eyed offenders eager to taste debauchery.
It’s a while before the gig delivers on this promise, but by the time (gone midnight) The Kills (7/10) crack out their narcotic felching the tunnel is a writhing beast of excess. Whilst The Kills have galvanised their fan base, we can’t help but hearken back to their less electronic guise. The pre-fabricated cool pushed by recent albums is a far cry from the autonomous bar-room brawl of ‘Keep on Your Mean Side’. Still, ‘Future Starts Slow’ keeps them treading water above their dwindling tide. Where once Alison Mosshart’s shapes were full of fluid nonchalance she now appears a parody of her former glory, all tabloid vogue and faux attitude. When they appeared as ‘W’ and ‘Hotel’ at the turn of the century we should have guessed they would be little more than a pastiche.
Which is something tonight’s headliners The Horrors (8.5/10), and more importantly Faris should be attentive of. Taking the stage to ‘Changing the Rain’ off latest album ‘Skying’, the Southend quintet should heed warnings of lazy silhouettes. Faris has the opportunity to take The Horrors beyond indie blogspots but his Gillespie style posing, and lack of crowd interaction sometimes detracts and over decorates the music. Not such a bad thing, but whilst watching a front-man continually pour himself languid over the stage may look smart for two songs, it undoubtedly lacks the passion and grit of their ‘Strange House’ days. It’s a minor quibble, quashed by many elements of tonights performance, from the natty percussion of ‘Who Can Say’ to the venomous bite Faris applies to ‘I Can See Through You’ it’s clear their evolution from raw freak-beat to expansive pop is almost complete. ‘Still Life’ unsurprisingly gets the greatest roar of the night, its sparse arrangement playing tribute to Faris’s vacant baritone. Those lucky enough to leave the warehouse with their faculties will remember tonight for clichéd shapes and belly curdling feedback, and the silhouette of a pop band flexing a substantial muscle.