It is impossible to miss the Glasgow Barrowland Ballroom if you find the right street. The venue is marked by a giant sign with the word Barrowland spelled out in hot orange neon letters surrounded by bright white neon stars. Inside, the scuffed wood floors and faded orange and yellow stars scattered across the domed ceiling of the ballroom further enforce the sentiment that you have been transported to an oversized rollerskating rink from the 1970s. Matthew Dear And His Big Hands were already playing for the half-full venue when I arrived. There weren’t enough people in the ballroom to balance out the acoustics, or maybe they didn’t get a sound check. In any case, everything sounded swampy and indefinite, and in the old ballroom, it was surreally beautiful.
After Matthew Dear And His Big Hands left the stage, the sound crew quickly installed an impressive array of music making devices including guitars, a bass, four futuristic-looking synth stations, bongos, and part of a drum set. It was evident that the night’s show wasn’t going to be a pre-recorded karaoke fest. My prediction proved accurate as soon as the lights dimmed and the London quintet ripped into the first song of the set. Alexis Taylor furiously pounded away on the toms and snare, while Owen Clarke manned the bongos and Al Doyle provided that ever-appreciated cowbell groove. Soon, the whirlwind of live percussion was replaced by Felix Martin’s drum machining, as Taylor’s cry of “I’m ready to try this!” established that the gritty techno onslaught that had emerged was “Shake a Fist.”
Throughout the set, Hot Chip molded their material into a fluid club set that was often a drastic departure from the songs’ recorded versions. Gone were the candy-coated nuances that make Hot Chip a rewarding headphone listen. They rejected their dorky pop-wizard persona and attempted to reinvent themselves as red-blooded, club-shaking rock stars. And I kinda liked it. The wall of heavily distorted guitars and hungry synths became harsh and overbearing at times, but these guys know how to craft a sweet riff and channel the immediate rapture that comes with it. Despite all the distortion and stadium-ready riffs, Hot Chip couldn’t deny their roots as nerdy nice guys, which created an endearing tension with the rock star posturing. Bearded frontman Joe Goddard, looking like a jolly camp counselor, danced awkwardly behind his synth-station, while co-frontman Alexis Taylor, wearing his big glasses and singing earnestly, stood stationary behind his synth.
Although they forsook the often-gorgeous details and buoyant warmth of their recordings, Hot Chip’s live set displayed a knack for subtlety and engagement with the audience. About halfway through the show, the audience’s energy levels dwindled as the simplified renditions of their songs started to become monotonous (especially the drums, which didn’t change much). But then, quietly at first, and without any other shift from the last song, came the opening riff of “Over and Over.” And that was all it took for the audience to rush forward and dance wildly. By the time the rest of the band caught up and settled into the verse, everyone was jumping up and down jubilantly. “Ready For the Floor” was the show’s highlight, as they briefly dipped into the intro and then extended the bridge for a full two minutes of tension-building before ecstatically launching into the chorus at just the right moment. Clearly, their experience as DJs has paid off.
As they closed the set with the lyrics of New Order’s “Temptation” sung over “No Fit State,” I reflected on what seemed to be Hot Chip’s mission: to break down barriers in the pursuit of pop. Were they DJs, rock stars, nerdy bedroom divas? Throwbacks to the synth-pop of the 1980s or to 1990s techno? I don’t know. Maybe all of those things to some extent. I can’t call the gig a revelation, but it certainly was fun.
