FAITHLESS + KASABIAN LIVE AT MARLAY PARK, DUBLIN

Kasabian supporting, Faithless headlining – dare I suggest that both acts were designed to fill these roles? Kasabian have built a catalogue that is limited in scope and rather underwhelming when taken as a whole, but the dross is always punctuated with some deliriously catchy singles. The wordless, primal, laddish stomp of the choruses to ‘Club Foot’ and ‘Cutt Off’ certainly provokes a frenetic reaction (insert token reference to “partying like it’s Manchester ’91” here), though I’ve yet to be fully convinced that they do the skunk-rock-indie-dance thing any better than Campag Velocet, Lo-Fidelity All Stars et al. The new tracks don’t point to any great departure or progression, but the shorter set suits them to the ground – another half-hour and their limitations would have been cruelly exposed.
Faithless, on the other hand, revel in occasions such as this. Despite the frequent excellence of their recorded output, they remain primarily a live band. Their best songs – ‘God Is A DJ’, ‘Salva Mea’, ‘Insomnia’ – are built to a relatively strict formula: a ponderous, melancholy intro to build the tension; then a slow-burning rap by Maxi Jazz to increase momentum, before the inevitable rush of the hands-in-the-air rave climax. It is music custom-built for the outdoor show, but they are also masterful in their ability to exploit and enhance a track’s dynamics in the live setting – the quieter passages are stretched out even further, the releases are even more explosive than on record.
The moodier, acoustic-flecked trip-hop numbers don’t provoke quite as wild a reaction (bar a stirring ‘I Want My Family Back’), but the gig’s peaks would not be so impressive if there were no troughs to bring them into greater relief.
Faithless gigs remain a deeply collective experience; there is a disparity between the ecstasy of the crowd reaction, and the level of hero-worship for Maxi Jazz, Sister Bliss et al. The crowd are more engrossed in the Faithless Experience than in Faithless themselves and - despite their gargantuan record sales across Europe - they are small-time celebrities in an individual context; certainly more so than with most other groups of a similar profile.
But, perhaps therein lies the beauty of their live show – their populism rests on their ability create intermittent connections with their audience, which can only be achieved with the benefit of distance.