Lost Knives @ Butterfly Records – 17/2/10

A secretive affair that would put Messrs. Woods, Terry and Kay to shame, tonight’s ’self-invite-only’ performance was pretty hush-hush. Time and place only announced a day or two prior – and indeed when we asked exactly what was happening this fine evening, we got little info back. Such mystery only further fuels curiousity, so naturally attendance was essential!

Intimate gigs are always the best. More personal, often of better sound and, of course, the ‘I was there when…’ factor. And what more intimate setting than a band’s own rehearsal space? Downstairs of Butterfly Records is an elongated basement, fully sound-proofed and fitted with downlighters of differing colours. There’s a telly with flickering static like in that film I can’t remember right now, and the same visual projected on the back wall behind the band’s set-up. Eerie.

People have taken the opportunity to adopt a BYOB policy (gigs are better with a beer in hand after all) and the room fills up nicely within minutes. The band skulk to their instruments almost unnoticed, and quietly get things rolling.

Lost Knives, for the uninitiated, are the musical equivalent of Silent Bob from the Kevin Smith films. Whereas a large number of bands slug it out for any and every meaningless gig, they built up a good list of commendable support slots in their early months after forming last February. And whereas most bands go overboard with shoving their name down your throat, this humble quartet simply put their music online for free, let the internet do the talking, went into hibernation on the gig front, were invited to record at BBC Maida Vale and generally kept promotion to the bare minimum. Those who wanted to see the band live, would. Those that didn’t would surely hear of them in a year or so anyway.

We’re underway and the instruments slowly start doing their thing, with a little help of course. The lights eventually come down and we’re engaged fully.

Firstly, there’s something about the kind of drumming that makes you nervous and simultaneously excited like only the best horror films can. Like a very boisterous ghost, the haunting thwacks and crashes provide more chill factor than this modern winter can ever dream of offering.

The outstanding ‘Cold Morning’ is the sort of song that every band dreams of writing. As the thumping percussion is accompanied by additional stick-beating from guitarist Steven McInerney, a steady, building riff that harks Godspeed You! Black Emperor rolls in. Frontman George Agan’s brooding vocals are direct, and the chorus “We woke up as the world slowed down,” pours out as a defiant statement of chance-seizing. Expect to hear this used on the box and in film before long.

My personal favourite LK track follows next. ‘She’s Not You’ is very Editors-esque in verse, which makes me want to immediately dislike it every time. But it’s also as fresh-sounding as when Interpol emerged, and the sharp vocal chirps caused by a high ratio of monosyllabic lyrics give it the sort of liveliness that the arena-filling duo seem to have lost with success.

A glockenspiel stick goes AWOL, disrupting the set before eventually being found halfway across the room. Conversation is kept to a minimum, maybe through shyness and modesty than anything. What little that is said is mainly gratitude towards the audience for coming. Standard gestures perhaps, but yet more evidence that the band aren’t exactly clamoring for attention or recognition.

There’s programmed tracks and synth layoffs that provide the pretence of feedback and wailing atmospheric backing. Shut your eyes and you’d think one of the guitarists is purposefully facing his amp up close. It adds those delicate little elements into the background and lets the stringed instruments still talk loud over the top. It’s easy to overproduce a record and then find it hard to replicate the amount of layers when playing live. Lost Knives appear to have had this all sussed out before they left the womb.

The performance resumes with a new track, McInerney on lead vocals this time. Slightly less enigmatic in output, but aptly fitting to the softer tones. And with Agan joining in for the chorus lines, it makes for a nice contrast that works well in later songs too. Regardless of who’s on the mic, the blunted basslines are present throughout. Raw yet equally sharp in prime Cooper Temple Clause fashion.

The penultimate number is ‘Static’ and I don’t immediately recognise it from seeing them last. But then comes a riff so melodic Boney M would be proud and my memory redeems itself. It’s just one of a set full of potential singles.

‘Out Of Touch’ makes for a rip-roaring finale; gloomy intro, swaying beat, racing guitars and vocals crafted in the vein of early Bloc Party. It breaks down and builds back up just like a seasoned pro – that final burst of energy not letting up one bit.

“You don’t have to share this feeling,” echoes the chorus before the lights come up. If it’s the feeling of enjoyment, then trust us, it’s not forced or involuntary. Lost Knives have kept us and everyone in the know in suspense with their secretive approach to being a band. Finally the time appears to be right and they’re ready to ‘wake up’.

Now get something released and shout it from the rooftops, lads.

http://www.myspace.com/lostknivesband

Download 6 tracks here for free!