Rock the shikari

Laced with “What the fuck?” squalls of trance, jungle and – just to be sure there really are no grown-ups left in the building – death metal, Enter Shikari’s Wagnerian emo has ignited the teen rock scene.

As we speak, their MySpace “friends” count is yomping toward one million; last month debut album Take To The Skies crashed the UK charts at number five. Crowning their rise, the St Albans foursome recently became only the second unsigned act to play London’s hulking Astoria (The Darkness were the first, a fact neither we nor Enter Shikari wish to dwell on).
"We were originally meant to be at the Mean Fiddler,” reminisces frontman Roughton Reynolds. “Growing up, we’d seen all sorts of bands at the Astoria – people like Muse. To be playing it ourselves was a huge shock."
Simultaneously referencing Thom Yorke, KLF and Slayer, Shikari, it’s a fair guess, are like nothing you’ve ever heard before.
“Early on we had a big Radiohead thing going on, but pretty soon we got bored of that and started messing around with electronics,” says Reynolds of the group’s throbbing sound. “We wanted to build up a real energy in our live shows. Kind of like the energy you used to get in raves. It must be working, because now we’re having people come to the gigs in boiler suits. Which is taking it a bit far but, you know, good for them.”
Not surprisingly several majors have assiduously courted Shikari. But they aren’t straying from the independent path. Run by Reynolds' father, Keith, their Ambush Reality label is more than a conduit for their music. It’s also bound up with the group’s identity.
“By doing it independently, we actually have a chance to do something that makes a difference,” says Reynolds Jr. “To then turn around and take the money would seem wrong. I think we’d be letting a lot of people down. But most importantly we’d be letting ourselves down. Besides, there’s nothing to say a label won’t lose interest in you sooner or later and show you the door. A major label deal is made out to be the ultimate goal, but you can get a deal and your career might still go down the pan” .’
Shrieking like an vengeful incubus suffering quite nasty bowel troubles, Reynolds is the glue that binds Take To The Skies together. Lately, though, all the snarling and gibbering has started to extract a price.
“I’m having problems with my vocal chords and have had to go see a specialist,” he explains. “He shoved this tube up my nose and down my throat to see what was wrong with me. Apparently, it’s not so much the shouting as the constant touring. We’re on the road pretty much constantly and it seems to be taking its toll. But the examination was a lot worse than the pain I got from singing.”
For all the buzz, Enter Shikari seem entirely grounded. They are, for instance, reported to have agonised at great length over whether to include swear words in Take To The Skies. In person, meanwhile, Reynolds is soft spoken and quite sweet. Like the rest of the band, he holds down a day job (in packaging and distributing, of all things). Even the band’s name has rather mundane origins.
“Enter Shikari means ‘the hunter’ in Hindi,” says Reynolds. “But we actually pinched it from my uncle’s fishing boat, which was called Shikari. We’d been looking around for something. It seemed a good fit.”
Take To The Skies is out now