JÄgermeister Freezer Sessions

Taking the concept to its natural, consumer-friendly conclusion, tonight’s Jägermeister Freezer Sessions gives the capital’s music-lovers four bands for the price of none. And not just any old bands – this being the final leg of this round of Sessions, the services of some of the most exciting acts ain Ireland have been enlisted to ensure that things go out with a bang. Right from the off, it’s bang-bang-bang.
Bouts are clearly on a mission to make their spiky presence felt. They throw themselves into a turbo-charged set, literally flinging themselves around the stage. There’s is a fuzzed-up, confrontational sound, full of gnarled riffage and awkward poses. But it has an odd elegance and allure too, marking this Dublin lot out as advocates of Paul Gauguin’s “le laid peut-etre beau” sentiment. Beautiful-ugliness. Nice lads off stage, they’ve a snottiness on it that we could do seeing a bit more often. Their evolution is impressive too – tonight is a step up from sets they were playing mere months ago. Pavement? The poppier moments of Sonic Youth? Whatever, they could be onto a Cloud Nothings-style winner.
Shadowplay follow, and they have much to celebrate. It was February when they won Hot Press Lift Off Competition; now they’ve just signed the record deal that might turn them into world beaters. This evening is an early champagne moment for the former NUI Maynooth students and they seize upon it with glee. Their technical ability has been talked about all year – but what really excites is how fresh this material is. We’re hearing fledgling songs here, and when they hammer them fully into shape, they’ll be utterly formidable. New faces tonight too: with their drummer away on holidays they’re joined by Scott Johnson of Roisin O’s band on skins (he helpfully wears an ‘I Am Not Emmet’ t-shirt) and Bridie McSuibhne on violin. With that, it’s time for a boogie...
Bitches With Wolves’ mainman James O’Neill may have moved to London but really his true home is on stage. Tireless and perma-enthused, he’s a one-man party, with the tunes to match. Vintage disco beats and synths in thrall to the ‘80s give hte music its essential spirit, but the future-pop likes of ‘No Danger’ suggest he’s kept his ear to the 21st dancefloor too.
Crowd suitably pumped up, The Kanyu Tree arrive to take this party home. Their sheer quality we know from those singles and that debut album, boasting the kind of immaculate sounds that are made for radio. But their live chops catch many by surprise. Everything is lent an extra funkiness, rhythms go tribal, their singalong songs are given a shot of testosterone. In this setting, the echoes of Talking Heads ring louder. Here be young white kids losing themselves in a groove and coming out the other side having located a cluster of quirky pop gems. In essence, the perfect ending to a month of nationwide musical love-ins.